By The Light Of The Moon

Chapter 12

I gazed up at the clouds drifting above the mountain peaks. A few short rain showers had come and gone, and I wondered how Shane was doing. For a werewolf who'd wanted to take shelter from the storm, it was strange he'd gone right back out into it as day approached.

It really wasn't any of my business, and if it was part of his curse like I suspected, it wasn't wise or polite to inquire. Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the fabric and sewing needle in my hands. Perhaps it was a good thing I hadn't sold the special waterproof silk.

There was just enough of it to make a knee-high rain cloak for a man. After some debate, I used my thin blanket to create a lining inside. I should be able to complete it by sundown. I wasn't the best seamstress around, but with my own cloak as a stellar model, it was turning out pretty good so far.

With all the fabric pooled across my lap and keeping me warm, I hadn't even bothered to restart the fire when it went out after lunch. The wet wood didn't want to burn anyway.

The whicker of a horse overhead had me looking up in alarm. Milly also lifted her head, searching for the potential herd member. I jumped to my feet and darted over to her, guiding her against the ridge. I was out of oats, so I rubbed behind her ears, hoping it'd be a sufficient distraction and keep her quiet.

She closed her eyes in bliss and leaned into the scratches. Even though Milly seemed to forget about the horse, I continued to watch the ledge above me, practically holding my breath. The clopping of heavy horse hooves on stone became louder, then stopped right above us.

I scratched Milly's ear harder to keep her distracted, and she reciprocated by leaning harder, thrilled with the free scratches.

"I don't see a thing through them trees."

"They have to be in 'da area. We have 'da pass blocked, and they can't double back with Sim's fighters watching 'da slopes."

"Don't see no smoke. An' after the rain, the wood be too wet to burn w' no smoke. They must be on 'da move."

I remained frozen where I was, too scared to take a step on the loose gravel lest they hear it. I was grateful the rock sloped back and all my gear was against the base. They'd have to lean over the edge to see me.

I just had to keep Milly distracted and hope she didn't get tired of the scratches. The silence dragged on, broken only by the snuffling of the horses above and the rustling of my fingers in Milly's hair.

After what seemed like an eternity, they gave up staring at the forest and continued riding, following the ridge as it curved away. My shoulders slumped in relief, although I didn't ease up on the scratches that practically had Milly going cross-eyed in bliss.

Only after I was completely sure they were out of earshot, did I dare move. Taking two steps to the side, I plopped down on a large rock as my muscles trembled from unused adrenaline. With a sigh of relief, I raised my head and scanned the forest in case the men on the ridge had friends below. Thankfully, I didn't see anything.

That had been too close for comfort.

Shane wouldn't have known about the ones on the ridge since the vertical rockface was too steep for him to climb and too long to easily go around. But where there was one group, others likely weren't far away.

With an eye on the trees, I began packing everything up and hiding it under shrubs at the base of the ridge. It was only midafternoon, so there was still a chance a group might appear before night fell. If soldiers showed up, all I had to do was slip away unnoticed and evade them until nightfall. There was no guarantee I could escape on Milly, and if I had to let her run and lead them on a wild good chase, I could send Shane back here for my gear.

And speaking of Shane, where was he? Even if he turned into a poodle or something, at least he'd be able to warn me of company. I huffed in irritation, wishing the guide I'd hired was present during the day. He didn't seem to mind coming around as a werewolf – even shifting right beside me – so why did he disappear all day without a trace or an explanation?

Answers were in short supply, which didn't terribly surprise me. I moved the cloak and backpack behind a large shrub near the base of the ridge. When I sat down, the dense leaves shielded me from sight. Milly was browsing in thick bushes, so I hoped her gray coat would blend in.

Time dragged on even more slowly than before.

I continued sewing the cloak, but every rustle or twig snapping in the trees had me peering through the leaves in case unwelcome company was nearby. Two rabbits in particular were constantly scampering around and making noise.

I was just about to go shoo them away when horns began sounding in several directions. I stilled in my hidden spot, although none of the sources were nearby. They were close enough I could clearly hear each note, but not within a five-minute ride.

Three calls were grouped fairly close together, and my breath hitched in my chest when I realized they weren't on the main roads – they were in the direction of the deer path we had traveled on. They must have found some of our tracks or a pile of Milly's droppings.

There were still a couple of hours until sunset, but I didn't have that long if they were following the deer trail. Milly's old hoofprints might not have survived the pounding rain, but as wet as the dirt currently was, she'd leave very prominent tracks.

If we stayed, they'd find our camp before nightfall. If we left, they'd be able to track us. Milly wasn't able to outrun their warhorses, and the horn calls revealed that there were at least six groups in the area, with who-knew-how-many others lurking silently in hopes of catching us. But, perhaps, I could trick them.

Leaving my dubious shelter, I jogged over to Milly and grabbed her lead rope. I guided the old girl to the edge of the cold firepit and carefully led her across the least rocky path I could see, occasionally stopping to push her hooves deeper into the dirt.

I led her into the trees and onto another deer trail, and once we reached a rocky spot, I took her to the side, breaking our trail. Shane better not have been lying about being able to track the necklace he gave me, or he was going to regret that lie.

Going uphill, I picked the rockiest route so we wouldn't leave tracks. Once I found a dense stand of shrubs just out of sight of the campsite, I tied her up and went back for the saddlebags and harness, quickly returning while making sure I didn't leave any footprints.

Milly was delighted to sample the new vegetation and contentedly grazed as I sat on a mossy log within scratching distance.

If I was wrong, I'd be relieved. But if I was right...