90 DEADLY DAYS (WEEKLY UPDATES RETURNING THIS DECEMBER)

Chapter 35

Whaaaat? I updated twice?

Surpriseeeee!

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Chapter 35

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Ice cracks under my feet. I fist frozen fingers around a dagger.

"It's time you went out again," Butcher says. "You can't hide here forever. Xaro's picking things up, preparing for the Purge."

"You're letting me go alone?"

He snorts. "No, I'm letting you come with me."

Frustration threatens to surmount, but this is an invaluable opportunity. There's a bright side. I need to study the world beyond for a viable escape route. Staying in the cave only thickens my blindness. Butcher may think I'm giving up, but the game just rolled into play.

The hideout lies behind us, slowly disappearing. My weapon sinks heavily into my palm. I know he's given it to me as a test. I try to ignore how easy it would be to drive it under his ribs as he strides next to me. He's waiting for that. I'd be a fool to cross the line right now.

We amble through waist high drifts and test our weight across fields of ice. I bow over during the trek as the temperature to plummets lower than freezing. Icy gales elicit shocked breaths. Four days now, four days of awful cold.

Then I spot it.

A red blur galloping across the plain. The snow's whiteness illuminates the rusty color of a fox's coat and little paws. The hue reminds me of a bright poppy in autumn. I watch in awe as the glorious creature passes us. Then it's gone, just as quickly as a spark of happiness dies.

I flash a lonely smile. 

"Beautiful."

Butcher smirks at my awe. 

"They taste beautiful too."

My toes curl.

Why am I surprised? It's Butcher, the ruthless murderer.

Thankfully he lets the fox slip away into the evergreens, muttering all the while about wasted meat.

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In the thickest part of the wood Butcher grips my shoulder. The trees seem to lean in as I halt, as if eager to see my imminent pain. I take calming breaths, forcing myself to shake off all the revulsion and rage welling up. I knew this would happen eventually. This cold-hearted creature would want to satisfy himself eventually. He holds me still whilst looking up and carefully analyzing the skies.

I follow his gaze, heart calming to a steady patter. Thank God. He doesn't want anything from me. His interest focuses on the shining blue.

"What is it?" I say.

"Bleach. You don't smell it?"

I do eventually, after focusing intensely. The eggy, eye-watering stench filters in my nostrils. My irises scan the horizon, looking for the source. When a deceptively innocent-looking Grecousian craft zips over the blue, dread crowds my stomach.

"Come," Butcher steers me round. "We're going back."

He doesn't have to say it twice. I willingly follow where he leads. It's almost like he's a yellow canary in a coalmine. I might hate him with all my soul, but, by God, he'll sniff out danger before you even guess what's happening.