Page 76 of Rogue & Her Hunters
I smile with pride.
He’s learning.
I risk glancing up at the sky, however, and am horrified when a freezing snowflake trembles onto my cheek.
It’s starting to snow already.
We’re fucked if we don’t find clothing somehow or shelter.
I blink away the snowflakes that are now clinging to my eyelashes and assess the heavy sky.
Three…maybe only two…hours left until nightfall.
Dread sits heavy in my stomach.
Suddenly, with my enhanced hearing, I pick up a sound in the north that lifts my mood: the deep double blasts of an air horn in the far distance.
I grab Bird by the elbow and steer him in a new direction toward the horn.
We will never reach the caves in time at this pace. Yet I recognize the sound of the horns — a freight train.
It means that there are train tracks running along the edge of the forest.
It is dangerous to stow away and ride on a freight train. But it’s my only option right now.
It may be the only way that Bird and I will live through this snowy night.
Bird’s eyes widen, and he looks at me questioningly. But he still runs at my side, trusting me.
I drag him after me as fast as possible. I don’t care about being silent now, crashing through the undergrowth and pulling Bird past his limits.
We must catch that train.
Isn’t this how one of Mars’ romance books starts?
How is this meant to be romantic?
To my surprise, Bird and I stumble into a clearing and crash into a large tent. We fall over, tangling in the guy lines.
“Shit,” I hiss.
Yet Bird laughs. “Didn’t you say that we need clothes?”
“It’s our lucky day.”
“You know that you have a low bar, right?” Bird is already scrambling, however, to shove the hats, gloves, leggings, bottles of water, protein bars and beef jerky that these campers have helpfully left out in their now destroyed tent into their equally helpful backpacks.
I crouch, scanning the trees in case whoever this campsite belongs to returns and finds it being ransacked by two thieves.
My nose wrinkles at the black coffee scent.
This tent belongs to two young Alphas, likely frat boys from the local university based on the cheap cooler stuffed with bulk-brand beers and the football abandoned in front of the poorly built firepit.
They’ll manage for one night without these things.
Bird and I won’t.
I search the tent as quickly as I can.
