In Search of You

Chapter 9

“Fuck this shit, I’m riding with you,” she whispered. Quil shook his head and laughed. Even after everything that’s happened her spirit wasn’t broken—along with her stinging wit and her sharp tongue. His heart softened as he gazed at her and his fear fled leaving him weak. She was still alive, battered and bruised but still alive. Wounds healed but no one can bring the dead back to life.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to ride today. Not in your condition,” he told her. Again, she moaned. It was followed by a cough and her hands went to support her broken ribs. She winced from the pain and struggled against him. “We can’t stop. We’re not safe here, right?” she panted. Quil shook his head. “We’ll make do for now,” Quil replied.

His eyes scanned the surroundings. They were at the base of the mountain and though they were still out in the open, this was one of the safest places. They couldn’t afford to ride with Astrid hurt. Her fear compounded by her injuries will cause her more pain and trauma. They would have to make do for now. Besides, the danores were here and they could help with guarding the camp.

He barked several orders in his native language which sent the warriors and servants scurrying. He ordered them to secure the area by scouting the perimeter and to put up the tents again. He also shouted at the top of his lungs for the tribe’s healer to take care of Astrid. Quil sighed. Tonight, they would make their camp in this area. He would have to postpone flying back to his tribe’s lands for now. Maybe a day or two more providing that Astrid’s condition improved.

Meanwhile, he brought her far away from the pack of danores and towards the safety and shade of the nearby trees. Her eyes were still closed and he took time to survey his tribe setting up the camp from afar. He also looked at the trees and noted the position of the scouts he sent ahead.

“I’m sorry Quil,” she whispered. He frowned. “What on earth for?” he asked her. Truly, he should be the one who was sorry. If it weren’t for him, all this wouldn’t have happened to her. He was also sure that there were more challenges waiting for her and of course, all of it was his fault too. “I know you’re not supposed to show fear in front of the danores and stuff. But I freaked out. I’m afraid of heights and yes, I freaked the fuck out,” she whispered.

Quil smiled and he adjusted her position gently so that her head lay in his lap. He tore the hem of his shirt and used it to stem the blood from her wound. He took his knife from his belt and placed it beside him, within easy reach. “I know you’re afraid of heights, Astrid. I remember how you struggled to make that jump in Thornhearts,” he answered. He took a deep breath before he continued speaking. “I admire your courage for wanting to try and ride your own danore. The one that chose you, he is young. He thought you were worthy and was disappointed or maybe frustrated when you couldn’t fly. I think that’s why he attacked you. It was to salvage his pride after he claimed you in front of the whole pack,” he explained.

Astrid snorted. “I’m going to stab that danore like I did the Kaditha... once I can stand up,” she spat. Quil threw back his head and laughed. “That’s the spirit. But I don’t think that its parents will appreciate that, Astrid.” She sighed and huffed, “I’ll stab them too and I’ll make a very expensive leather dress and leather pants out of their hide. A bag too.”

Quil burst out laughing. It was absurd! This entire situation was crazy but still Astrid had the gall to joke! He knew that she couldn’t really kill a danore—not by herself. She’d be cut into small ribbons by their sharp claws within the first ten seconds that she faced them. Astrid gave him a half-hearted smile as he continued laughing. He only stopped when the healer of his tribe approached him and knelt beside the tree. She bowed to him. “Healer,” Quil acknowledged. The woman rose from her bow and moved closer. Quil shifted Astrid as gently as he could and his fingers went to the hem of her shirt. She slapped his hands away in a weak protest.