Page 88 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
By the fifth day, at least one of my complaints was genuine. We hadn’t encountered a real stream or river since the first day of my captivity, and I—someone accustomed to daily showers—abhorred the grime coating my skin. Dirt had embedded itself under my nails, my clothing was dusty and grass-stained, and my scalp was so itchy I feared I might’ve contracted lice—or the fae equivalent. My long hair had also knotted into what Aunt Aylie had termed rats’ nests—great matted tufts that she’d attack with a wide tooth comb when I was little. Under her tender ministrations, I’d learned quickly to keep tangle-free. But doing that required adequate conditioning, which required water.
I spent most of that fifth day bemoaning my unbearable shape from the back of the wagon. Pete spent it stalking alongside Bob over the uneven forest path, his shoulders hunching with my every grating note.
“Oh, Sionna.” I smoothed her fur over her head as we sat in the wagon. We’d become besties in the past few days. To Pete’s growing vexation. “How can you even stand to be near me? I smell so bad, I’m surprised you haven’t already keeled over and died. I’m surprisedIhaven’t keeled over and died.
“Of course, all your insensitive master would need to do is detour toward the closest water source, so I can wash the dirt away. But will he? No, because it’s out of his way, and there’s no time to spare. He wants his bounty, and he wants itnow. What does he care what state I’m in when he hands me off to that jackwagon who killed my father? What does he care how many germs are crawling on my skin?
“You know, poor hygiene leads to infection. And disease. But Pete doesn’t get that. In his time, popular medical science stated you got sick because God hated you, and the go-to cure-alls were leeches and bloodletting.” I scratched Sionna’s chin. “Spoiler alert—neither actually helped. No, they didn’t. Not one bit.”
“Oh, would you justshut yourbleeding trap?” Pete’s roar assaulted tranquility itself. Birds flapped from their perches as we clattered to a stop, Bob blaring his displeasure.
I popped up to my feet to give Pete attitude. Hand on hip and everything. “Excuse me?”
Pete’s brown eyes widened, noticeably blackened. He snarled at the goading in my voice, and I was glad Bob and the wagon were between us. “Excuseyou? I willnot.“ Days of repressed aggression rasped out of him. “You’re nothing but a writhing pain in my arse! You ceaselessly harass me from every dawn until every midnight, and I cannot, for my health, endure it a moment longer!”
Mission accomplished, I thought. “It’s not my fault I’m uncomfortable. How would you feel—?”
“Bollocks! I’ve weathered the same conditions as you, and I’m not suffering half as badly as you claim you are.”
I found my reserve toward avoiding conflict lessened the stronger my B.O. got, and I bent to seethe in Pete’s face. “Might that be because you’ve prepared for this trip, and I didn’t? Because you’ll gain from it, when I’ll loseeverything?”
Pete’s eyes burned like the darkest of coals. “You’ll lose your fecking tongue if you don’t quit your griping.”
“I’ll do as much griping as I want,” I hissed. “And you can just fucking deal with it.”
Pete took one menacing step toward me, hand on the hilt of hisscian.
Sionna pounced on the wagon bed ledge beside me, hackles raised in a vicious snarl. At him.
I shuffled aside in deference to her disposition, her sweet face downright feral.
Pete faltered, gaping at her. She’d probably never growled at him before.
I folded my arms. “See, even your own dog thinks you’re being a prick to me.”
Pete’s tan face flashed red before he rumbled and stormed back to his place beside Bob. Grabbing Bob’s bridle in one meaty fist, he wrenched the donkey and the wagon over a muddy ditch at an abruptness neither I nor Sionna expected. We both lost balance and plummeted to the rigid wagon boards. My funny bone cushioned my fall.
I thrashed, my arm splintering. “Ow, you dickhead!”
“You keep whining, then rest assured, I’ll give you just cause!”
Empty promises didn’t seem Pete’s thing, but if I was angering him enough to elicit threats, then I’d keep it up. Threats meant my plan was working. Even if he gagged me again, I could still make noises with my nose that would drive him up a tree. For the sake of his own sanity, he’d eventually seek refuge from me. Then, I’d have time to act.
My plan was simple. Just because my tether was invisible—and magic—didn’t mean I couldn’t sever it. I didn’t figure I’d ever get my hands on one of Pete’s blades again, so I’d fashion my own. I’d already collected two flat stones on one of my many potty breaks—one to use as a knife, the other to sharpen it. Now I just needed a bit of time and water to hone something with a shot at sawing through my tether. If that didn’t work, then I’d have to test the tether’s vulnerabilities. The damn thing couldn’t be indestructible.
If it was, I was screwed.
Ignoring every instinct warning me against prodding the bear further, I continued lamenting my discomfort to a comical degree. For two more days. On the eighth day, Pete snapped.
It was almost noon. Sionna and I had dozed off in the wagon bed, cushioned by the makeshift mattress I’d crafted from grass and fern fronds to avoid future injury whenever Pete’s temper spurred him to quicken Bob’s pace over ruts and rocks. I didn’t even notice we’d stopped until my eyes fluttered open to blear at a dusty, black leather jerkin. I was dangling like a deer carcass over the harbinger’s shoulder.
“What the hell are you doing?” I squawked, pummeling Pete’s back. “Get your grubby hands off me!”
Pete leapt to the ground with a grunt, squeezing me as my face rammed his spine. Seeing stars, I fought to regain my bearings—and my freedom. Pete’s scowling that morning said enough; he had rotten things in store for me.
“Hold still or these grubby hands will drop you,” Pete gritted out on his hike through the woods, Sionna prancing at his feet. She must’ve thought we were playing a game. “This is like trying to carry a swarming hive of bees.”
“Why would anyonedothat?” I joggled into his back again—a wall of solid muscle. The spicy musk of man sweat and citrus overwhelmed me. “Just put me down, and I’ll walk to wherever you want.”
