Page 87 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “Ask me then.”

“The five that are left. I’ll find them.” This vow I’m certain I can keep.

“I know you will,” he says. I can’t see it but I feel it, the weight of his gaze. “You’re the best tracker I’ve ever seen.”

I scoff quietly. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you found me,” he whispers into the darkness.

I feel him settle more fully against my back, his body molding to mine. His breathing starts to even out, growing slower and deeper.

The grip at my waist loosens just slightly as sleep begins to claim him. His voice drops even lower, almost too quiet to hear. “I’m glad you found me, Wolf.”

Chapter Twelve

Ikick dirt over the last of the coals while Garrett rolls up his bedroll. We haven’t spoken since we woke up, not about last night or anything else.

The silence between us is careful and somehow worse than yesterday’s anger. I scatter the ashes with my boot, making sure nothing’s left that could spark. The Noctrals are already shifting restlessly nearby, eager to move now that the sun’s climbing.

Last night hits me in flashes while I work. The weight of the mask leaving my face. My knees hitting the gravel as I kneel in front of him. His body crushing me against rough bark, his hand bringing us both over the edge.

I shove my bedroll into my pack. “Trail’s getting colder.”

“Then let’s move,” he replies curtly.

Dawnchaser bumps her nose against my shoulder when I approach. I absently stroke her neck while checking the saddle.

“She likes you,” Garrett says from behind me.

“Guess so.” I scratch behind her ear.

We mount and ride back toward the base of the mountains where I picked up the trail yesterday. The Noctrals move slower in the early morning light since the sun hasn’t climbed high enough yet for them to reach their full speed.

I lead Garrett along the base of the mountains, following the scent trail. It’s easier in daylight, with my full senses engaged. Five knights traveling together leave a clear path, even days later. I can see disturbed stones where boots scraped against rock, broken branches, and the lingering scent of their passage.

We find the entrance they used about a quarter mile from where we started. A narrow gap in the rock face, easy to miss unless you know what to look for. Shadows hide it well. The opening is barely wide enough for someone to squeeze through sideways.

“Cave system,” Garrett observes, dismounting and peering into the darkness. “They’re inside the mountain.”

“Yes.” I slide off Dawnchaser, already scanning the entrance for details. Scratches mark the stone around the opening. I half-recognize the old symbols from childhood stories. Evidence of the Ironhide Clan that used to call these mountains home.

I feel strange being here. It is as if I’m walking through a graveyard of my own people. The Sylverin were farther south, not from these mountains, but Wolven blood is Wolven blood.

Garrett is already pulling supplies from his saddlebags. “We’ll need rope, torches, flint and steel.”

“How long do you think we’ll be down there?” I ask.

“However long it takes.” His jaw sets as he says it, then he looks up. “Can you see in the dark?”

“Better than you, at least.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his face.

We gather everything we might need for an extended underground hunt. Rations, water skins, extra torches and spare blades. I secure my knives and make sure that my short sword moves freely in its sheath. Garrett does the same with his longer blade.

At the cave entrance Garrett pauses. His gaze drifts into the darkness before returning to me. “Once we go in, there’s no going back. Not until they’re dead. You could still walk away.”