Guardian (Sequel to Fearless)

Chapter Thirteen

"To where?"

"To hunt," Azabela shrugged. "I'm bored. You look bored. I haven't fired my bow in a few days with all the transport preparations and plus," Azabela paused and grabbed the bow off her back, "extra venison never hurt anyone. Come now."

"Is that wise?" Hench asked, eyeing the archer with sudden intensity. "Things prowl the woods at night."

"Kind of counting on that, actually," Azabela countered with a wink as Iris stood and dusted off her black robe. Iris wanted to laugh at the words, but decided she'd already pulled Hench's strings enough one day. She held it in, but indeed... the rogue liked Azabela. She had a sort of fun, playful spirit.

"Dangerous things," Hench emphasized. She grabbed her hammer. "I'll come and make sure you both are safe." The words were kind enough, but Iris hated the notion that she had to be protected. She was no longer a little girl --hadn't been for a long time.

Azabela pointedly rolled her eyes. "Truly, the elk would never see you coming." Sarcasm dripped off the words like a leaking spigot. Just then, the archer grinned again. "Come off it, Rhalla. I know the hunt. I know the wilds. I am fine."

Hench narrowed her eyes. "There is still the matter of my trainee."

"Your trainee," Azabela began, "has fought worse than wandering animals, I'm sure."

Try as she might, Hench found she could not refute the girl's logic. It wasn't often trainees wore big shoes upon coming into the guardian order. With a resigned sigh, she only said, "take care. And please... please stay safe."

"We will," Azabela promised with a courteous tuck of her chin. Her mentor only heaved a deep breath before permissively nodding back in response.

Azabela grabbed Iris's arm and quickly pulled her from the camp and away from the trail entirely into a thick encumbrance of trees. Hench watched over them as they left, and for a second, the woman swore she could feel grey hairs sprouting from her head.

Both Iris and her new companion slowed their pace once they were about a hundred steps into the moonlit wood. The archer gestured quietly for Iris to follow, surveying the ground for tracks. In this moonlight, they'd be harder to see. With a hand, she felt the earth, hoping the sense of touch would yield upturned dirt. The archer's keen eyes now moved about the area, searching for clues.

Did she find any? Hell if Iris knew. The rogue just followed behind, as quietly as possible. Suddenly, Azabela's focus fell on a nearby tree. She walked immediately and began inspecting its trunk. A satisfied smile curved on her lips as she looked now from one tree to the next. Iris didn't understand what she had found, but the archer knew that the bark was marred on each respective tree. Oh yes, something had certainly sharpened its antlers on them. And not only that, she found fresh indentions in the soft dirt below.

There were the tracks. Azabela followed them, finding signs of a small herd of deer that had passed through maybe an hour ago. A bit of fur here, a bit of droppings there. Fresh ones, by the look. And by the smell too, holy gods. The animals were getting ready to bed down for the night. But where? To Azabela's knowledge, they shouldn't be far. And she certainly meant to find them.

Iris watched immediately as the archer's entire gait changed. She now stood on the balls of her feet. Her hips swung confidently as she moved smoother and quicker than a snake sliding across grass, making no noise whatsoever. As she went, she observed random bits of nature for gods only knew why. Even in the starlight, Iris saw the ferocious, untamed way Azabela stalked after her target...

Her prey.

Surely, Azabela was the predator... the huntress... the quiet cat in the darkness.

Finally, she stopped altogether. Iris came to a quick halt behind her, still making sure to keep as silent as possible.