Page 86 of Warrior of the Wild
Soren actually grins at that. “He gets that way when he’s in a good mood. He’s excited to see Aros soon. Won’t you be in a good mood once you kill the god?”
“I don’t know how I’ll feel.” I sidestep a dangling branch and leap off a tilting rock on the ground.
“Me neither. I’ve spent so much time worrying about Iric, I haven’t had a chance to think about what completing my mattugr will mean for me.”
We veer around a tree so large, its base is twice the width of the tree house.
“Iric said you used to be different,” I say.
There’s a hitch in Soren’s stride. “What did he tell you?”
“You were arrogant and good at getting into trouble—and getting out of it. You were the best warrior in your village and the most sought after. Ladies hung off you.”
Soren drags a hand down his face. “Ladies did not hang off me.”
“No? What, then?”
“Well, they were there… It’s just…”
“I’m beyond amused watching you fumble for words.”
“It wasn’t like I was with a different girl every night. I had a lot of friends who were girls, and they hung around, and—”
“So they did hang off you.”
Now he glares at me. Actually glares. “And I suppose men didn’t flock to you back in Seravin?”
“Are you joking? A girl acting in a man’s job? One who wasn’t delicate or feminine or pretty? They wouldn’t come near me.”
He huffs out a breath of air, as if waiting for me to turn it into a joke. Then he realizes I’m serious. He searches for the right words, and I’m suddenly mortified to think he’s trying to make me feel better.
“A man who finds his masculinity threatened by a powerful woman is no man at all,” he says. “You want someone who lifts you up, not tries to bring you down.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but certainly not those words. “I like that. Let me know if you find any men who fit those requirements.”
He’s smiling at me, as if I’ve been left out of the joke. “There are men from Restin who fit those requirements.”
“I believe it. I rather like the two I’ve met so far.”
The thick foliage opens up into the clearing at the mountain’sbase. Whatever Soren’s reply might have been, it’s cut off as he cranes his head back to take in the full height of the mountain.
“Just how long is it going to take us to climb this?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never climbed a mountain before. Let’s find out.” I take a step into the clearing. The god’s lair is far from here; I made sure we came out of the tree line nowhere near it.
We don’t climb straight up, but rather zigzag so as not to be so winded by the incline. It’s not terribly steep, but I imagine that after a few hours, we’ll really start to feel it. The trip is painfully slow. Every other step sends a sprinkling of rocks tumbling down after us, and Soren and I slip frequently, catching each other before tumbling head over feet. Despite the distance we’ve kept from his lair, I fear we will draw the god’s attention with the noise and tumbling rocks.
Eventually, we hit a patch of trees, and I relax because Peruxolo will no longer be able to spot us now that we have cover.
Soren, I notice, keeps glancing behind him. Not at the ground, exactly, but more like he’s looking in the direction of the tree house.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“This might have been a bad idea. We shouldn’t have left Iric alone.”
“You’re worried about him.”
“He’s not a warrior. Anything could happen while we’re gone.”
