Dara, Page, and the Secrets of the Multiverse

▷ 8.3

The caws of birds trailed in her wake as she hurried across the forest floor. Her boots crunched against the layer of dried leaves and blades of grass littering the ground. She craned her neck up to see the swaying canopies and the sheet of blue beyond them. The air was cold, kissing her skin and leaving light prickles on it. Winter hasn't quite finished, and by the looks of it, it was here to stay for a while.

Today was one of the rare moments she was out of the tavern. She had to close it for the day as she had run out of firewood. None of the nearby timber stores had any left, and with winter ravaging longer than usual, the market for wood was abuzz. So, she resolved to get some herself, beating the hunters to the playing field by going just as they were trekking home.

A bag recycled from a flour sack bounced against her hips with every step. She hoped to gather enough to last her a full day at the tavern, at least until she could ask one of her regulars for a special favor.

Not that she was against closing down for a week or two. She afforded herself a few days of rest. She shook her head at the notion, a wince rushing to her face as memories rushed back into her mind. Closing down to rest might incite a riot like how she came close to doing last spring.

It happened innocently enough. She ran out of eggs, and there had been a shortage in the farms. Left with no alternatives, she had to shut the business down for a few days, at least until the stocks recovered. The outrage the city faced was unprecedented, going as far as forcing the Duke of the capital to dispatch a unit of marshals to the tavern. Having soldiers near her sights was stressful enough, the crowd of people trying to push past them and demanding to be served her food was even more.

Oh, she did not want to go through that again.

Excitement glistened in her gut as she spotted a tree with dark branches and a darker trunk. The hunters claimed the darker the wood, the longer it lasted. Great. A score. She dug the knife from her bag and started hacking at the low-lying branches. She'd figure out how to get to the top later. By climbing, perhaps. She might be a lady, but there wasn't anyone around, was there? She could get away with it.

On her third branch, the foliage behind her rustled. Her breath caught in her throat. There wasn't anyone around, was there? She whirled and checked. Nothing. Her shoulders rose up and fell down in a shrug. Probably just the wind.

Nope. The rustling intensified. Her heels touched down on the snow-laden ground just as her periphery registered a black silhouette zipping behind her. She swallowed her fear to avoid making a noise, whirling around with her knife in the air. The blade glinted silver against the fading sunlight just as a heavy thud resounded on the grass. Her heart dropped to her knees.

A bear was an understatement. The thing stared at her with blazing red eyes, features scrunched up in a low growl. Teeth as long as her palm peppered the snout. The dark fur covering the hulking body was matted, and those crimson stains couldn't have been mud. Blood, most likely. Or some devious wintergreen berries.

The growls chased off the birds and critters in the immediate radius, leaving Page on her own. There wasn't anyone around, the point driven home when she realized all the hunters had gone home. Only a fool would venture out this late, and oh, Page was the biggest one.

Before she knew it, her back had flattened against the trunk on her way to retreat. Knives were as useful as a toothpick against a beast that big. Run. She should run.

"Stay there," she said to the beast. Her chest heaved, and her voice sounded far away from her ears—breathy and nothing more than a squeak. A few more minutes, and she might pass out. "Be a good beast."

The beast didn't like that. Its hooked claws scratched against the tree roots as it launched itself forward. Page swerved around the trunk, ripping through the forest as fast as she could. Her hands tore through rough barks, clawing messes of vines and protruding branches out of the way. Not running in a linear path should at least slow the beast down.

It didn't.

"Gods' asses," she hissed. The town. She had to make it to the town. There were people there. People who could help her. Until then, she needed something—anything—that might help her not get eaten first. She stuck her hand into her bag, rummaging around. The grimoire brushed against her fingers. Dear gods.

Out of fresh ideas, she pulled it out and flipped it open. She ended up on the page where she last stopped. The cookies. The same ones in a bag in her pockets for her to eat on the journey. Was that a message? A horrid coincidence?

She didn't get to see for herself. A weight slammed into her back, pushing her to the ground. At the last minute, she pivoted around so her back slapped the gnarly roots. Air went back out her throat in a shocked gasp. The grimoire flew out of her hands, landing face down on the snow. No!

The beast's paws sank against her shoulders. Its snout was close enough for her to see the moist nose and smell the rot from its breath. Eugh. The growl was nigh silent, but with her inches from being eaten, she heard it as loud as the heartbeat pounding in her temples.

If it gets you, you're dead.

Page squirmed. She shoved her hands into her pockets, digging for whatever she could reach. Her fingers closed around the bag of cookies. She drew it out. The beast opened its jaws, drawing back to get itself a serving of Page's guts. Not so fast. She wouldn't die here. Not if she could help it.

Fangs surged down in a flash of gray and black. She chucked a cookie straight into its gullet. Her boots sank into the matted fur in its underbelly, pushing it back as it gurgled and clawed at its throat. She rolled aside, scrambling on all fours to send her momentum forward. It was a nice distraction, but it wouldn't last.

Something squelched behind her. She made the mistake of turning. The shadows bubbled and fizzed, falling away from the beast until smooth flesh and a mop of brown hair replaced it. Page could take on the sight of a beast inside a forest that could kill her—survived an attack, even—but she couldn't take on the sight of said beast turning into a man.

With her breath hitching on her throat, she passed out.