Page 29 of Hunting for her Heart
Suddenly, an idea comes to me, and I let out a quick, low whistle to get Hawk to stop. When he looks back at me, I motion him over as Ronan steps up from behind, his knife out and his eyes on the trees.
“What is it?” Hawk asks as he scans our surroundings.
“No threats, I just had an idea. Do you remember Miryam’s special healing balm? She made it when you fell from that tree?” I ask Hawk and he nods. “I think I can recreate it if I get the right ingredients. It will heal her bruises in just a few hours.”
“What do you need?” Ronan asks eagerly, clearly on board with the plan.
“Comfrey root, yarrow, bitterleaf, and redwort,” I tell them. “Plus a few drops of water to make, then I’ll be able to make the poultice.”
“Alright, let’s keep our eyes peeled as we move,” Ronan says, before we step back into formation. By the time we near the waterfall, I have everything but the yarrow. But since they tend to grow close to water, I’m hopeful we’ll find some near the pond.
But before I can step into the clearing, Hawk freezes in front of me, slowly lowering the point of his spear to aim infront of him. I take a step forward so I can see over his shoulder, and my eyes widen in shock.
Sitting on one of the large boulders that surrounds the pond is a fucking troll. At least, I assume that’s what it is. We don’t have trolls or ogres in Redmere, so I’ve never actually seen one before.
His massive body is hunched forward as he digs his teeth into some sort of dead animal, probably a rabbit. He has dirty, green skin, pointy ears, and a long, curved nose. His big black eyes stare dimly down at his food as his black hair lies messily down his back.
One good thing about trolls is that they are said to be slow and dumb. Not exactly a difficult enemy for us to vanquish. Except they say where you find one…
The bushes beside us rustle, and my head shoots in that direction, searching for the threat. Willow’s body tightens around mine before her entire frame starts to tremble. I wish I could offer her reassuring words, but I don’t want us to be heard. I watch through the trees as the second troll stomps toward the pond.
When he steps into the clearing, the first one lifts his head to see who it is, then goes back to eating, seemingly uncaring about his company.
Hawk slowly walks backward toward us, careful not to make a sound, until I place my hand on his shoulder, letting him know he can stop his retreat. Ronan joins us as we duck our heads together to speak quietly.
“There could be more,” I tell them, and they nod, already assuming the same thing.
“We should kill them,” Hawk whispers, but Ronan is already shaking his head.
“There’s no point. We won’t be able to stay here with the stench of their dead bodies in the air.”
“Then we find somewhere else to go,” I add, but Ronan shakes his head again.
“Look where the sun is. We only have an hour of daylight left. We mustn’t risk being left without a safe place to spend the night.”
“There’s always my tree,” Willow whispers quietly.
Ronan smiles at her and nods. “Let’s call that Plan B.”
“What’s Plan A?” she asks.
“Distraction,” he tells her.
With perfect timing, the sound of muffled male voices reaches our ears, and we all turn toward it.
On the opposite side of the clearing, a group of four men saunters in, laughing and stomping as if they don’t have a care in the world.
That quickly changes when the trolls set their sights on them. The one who’s standing lets out a roar so loud that even I wince. Then he moves in their direction, each step shaking the ground. He must be over nine feet tall and as thick as the three of us combined.
The men screech in fear before hightailing it back the way they came. The troll follows them, as the first one stands, and takes a moment to throw the rest of his dinner in his mouth before turning and following them.
As he passes us, I get an even closer look at his disgusting body. Apparently, trolls don’t wear any clothes, and these were both male. I want to lift my hand and shield the sight from Willow’s eyes, but he’s already moved on and ducked into the trees.
More loud footsteps come our way, and a third troll stomps into the clearing from our right. Seeing where hisbrethren went, he rounds the pond and follows them into the trees.
None of us moves for a full five minutes before we decide it’s safe. Hawk goes first, walking around the clearing and listening for any sign of others. When he makes his way back to where we’re still standing inside the trees, he tells us, “All clear.”
As we step up beside the pond, I bend down to one knee, and Willow unhooks herself from me and stands. I spin on my knees to look at her, taking in her face and checking that she’s okay.
