Page 37 of Warrior of the Wild
I take quick steps backward, watching the god, watching the danger in front of me.
After a time, he turns away from the rockslide. The rocksreach the ground, perhaps a hundred yards away from his home—no damage done there. Of course not. Perhaps he concentrated so carefully on the slide to use his power to control it.
And I wasted some of that time by watching it, too.
But now his attention is back on me.
“Is that as fast as your mortal legs will go?” he questions cruelly.
Peruxolo runs for me. He gains momentum quickly, while I stumble over my own feet trying to retreat. Just before I turn around, to put all my efforts into sprinting away from him, I watch him thrust his arms out in my direction. And that invisible force that I felt earlier—the god’s power—
It strikes me, forcing me off my feet, flinging me backward onto the hard ground. I breathe out once, deeply.
Then I’m scrambling—running—fleeing for my life.
When at last I find the road, I dare a glance back over my shoulder.
Peruxolo sweeps his cape behind him before disappearing into the mountain.
CHAPTER
8
After a time, I think my lungs will burst if I do not stop running. I collapse onto the ground, my body quivering with exertion and fear.
I manage to skid off to the side a ways, burying myself into the thickness of the wild, out of the obvious sight of the road. Just in case Peruxolo followed.
Not that it matters. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead.
I don’t know how long I sit there, catching my breath, imagining all the ways I could have died, but it doesn’t feel terribly long before I hear something.
Steps in the wild. Approaching from the god’s direction.
I have the ax off my back in an instant.
I crouch behind a tree close to the road, watching, waiting.
When a figure comes into view, I pause, trying to make sense of it.
As it comes closer, I ready my ax, preparing to strike. And at just the right moment, I thrust the shaft toward the road, causing Soren to trip right over it.
He’d been running, and the fall sends him flying, crashing and skidding across the broken-up ground.
He curses as he stands, wiping rocks and mud and dried leaves from his scratched-up palms, his skinned knees.
I’m fuming.
“Did youfollowme?”
“Did you trip me?”
What. The. Hell.
I hold my hands in front of me. They’re shaking. I can’t decide if I want to wrap them around Soren’s neck or cover my face with them.
I almost died. And Soren is here. Why is he here?
I growl. “What’s the matter with you? I told you to stay away from me! You promised you would! What are you doing here?” I’m a pot of water that’s just set to boiling, and I’ll burn anything that gets too close.
