Vampire's Prey

Chapter 37: The Mark of a Slave

The rising sun forces me to abandon my attempt to catch any extra sleep. Last night was better than my first night in the forest, but the smallest noise still startled me awake. Back when I was still plotting my escape, I never imagined that simply sleeping would be challenging. I've spent so many nights beside Rahlan over these last few weeks that I have become accustomed to his presence, and now that I'm alone and a little more knowledgeable as to what may be lurking in the shadows, it's difficult to get a good night's rest.

I sit up and stretch my limbs. The thought that I'd sleep better beside a vampire is preposterous, but every time some rustling in the bushes woke me up last night, a little voice in my head wished that he was here with me.

I climb down the tree and wash in the river, taking care not to wet my bandaged arm. Soon the Farians are awake too, and Aled and Ina work on packing up the camp.

I join them. "Can I help?"

Ina shrugs, not looking up from her backpack.

"Cleaning the pots would be great," Aled says.

I collect the dishes from last night's soup and rinse them out in the river. The fire has burned down to a small pile of smoldering ash. No ravagers came. I hope that I'm wrong about them, that they've yet to move this far south.

I return the cleaned dishes to Aled, who's busy packing his own bag.

"Can you lend me your hands?" I ask.

He puts the pots away and stretches his back. "What do you need?"

I lead him to the river and take a seat on a large rock.

He sits on a stone opposite me.

I reach into my bag for my sword, but his eyes narrow as my fingers touch the hilt. Thinking better of it, I pick out the old white linen shirt and leave the sword behind.

"Do you have a knife?" I ask.

He reaches behind his back, and a shiver runs down my spine at the sight of a dagger. Up until now, I'd assumed that his only weapon was a bow. Such an assumption could have gotten me hurt if any of the heated situations yesterday had exploded. It would be foolish to let myself relax around this group, or at least around Aled in particular.

After hesitating for a bit over showing him my vulnerable injury, I push my feelings aside and pull up my sleeve. The bandage underneath is stained with mud.

I hand him the large linen shirt. "Can you cut off a strip?"

He nods in understanding. The knife easily glides through the material, cutting a long piece of linen from the bottom of the shirt.

I begin unwrapping the old bandage, reversing Rahlan's complicated layers of crisscrossing patterns.

"That sword seems rather large for such a small girl," Aled says.

He phrased it as an innocent remark, but I know he's suspicious. Thief, robber, or murderer – he's thinking. It's Keld's sword, but if I admit that I have any connection to vampires, this conversation would head in a nasty direction.

I keep my eyes on my task. "It's a family heirloom."

He lets out a breath. Whether it's a sign of agreement or doubt, I can't be sure. Looking to see if he believed my lie will only fuel his suspicions further, so I keep my eyes busy.

The last layer of the bandage comes off, and I inspect the cut underneath. It looks no different from when Rahlan replaced the bandage two days ago, so at least it isn't getting any worse.