Fire Witch Read Online Free PDF Page B

chuckling and her face burned with shame. She stepped up her pace, searching frantically for a big enough stick that she could swing it at him if he came at her. She peered up into the canopy, trying to assess how close to dusk it was and how long it would be before the shadows would cloak everything from view. She'd run, that's what. Should make him chase her until she could lose herself in the darkness. Her heart was already quickened as she tried to supply her muscles with the necessary fuel. She could hear him behind her, treading casually, as though he thought she believed herself safe, as though he believed he had fooled her.
    She looked back at him over her shoulder, and froze midstep as she realized he was bending and collecting wood. He peered up, catching her eye over his armful of dead tree limbs.
    "You need boots," he said.
    She looked down at her feet and shrugged. "I prefer to go barefoot."
    "Fine if you don't have to worry about poisonous snakes," he said.
    "There are no poisonous snakes hereabouts."
    A black brow cocked quizzically. "Really?" he said. "I thought they were everywhere." Then he nodded at a fall of oak branches large enough that they could feed a fire for hours. "Grab that," he said.
    When they made it back to the small clearing, smoke was already rising from a meager fire set by the spindly youth. She saw him flash an encouraging smile her way, but she couldn't find it within her to return it. The other men swarmed about Feran, mumbling in a language she didn't understand but she could tell they were asking when they were going to get their turn with the captive. When Feran shook his head to indicate he thought they weren't any of them going to get an opportunity at all, two of the men cursed out loud and spat on the ground. They sent hateful looks toward Chelan and clutched the hilts of daggers they wore strapped to sheaths around the tops of their leather-clad thighs. She didn't have to understand the language to comprehend what their bodies were saying. They thought they were entitled to her and some sort of code prevented them from doing so.
    For the first moment since her capture, she felt relief. No matter how long it lasted, no matter whether there was another moment of relief to come, she would be grateful for this one opportunity when she felt at least somewhat safe. She settled on a log some distance away from the fire, but not without the carefully guarded glances that got sent her away from the brood of men. She crossed her arms as she sat there, stretching her legs out in front of her to manage some sort of comfort.
    The rest of the group settled around closely to the fire, all seemingly eager for a few morsels of the quickly prepared fare. A couple of them chewed on the ends of fern roots that they had pulled and peeled down to the nutty core. One dug into a leather bag of dried apple slices and passed it around magnanimously to his comrades.
    The spindly youth was evidently the cook as well. She could smell dried venison and onions being boiled together; despite herself, her stomach grumbled loudly. Chelan looked askance at her and then took a wooden bowl from his satchel hanging from his horse and filled it with broth. Clumps of wild herbs hung over the edge.
    He strode toward her and held out the bowl. It dripped on the top of her bare shin and dribbled down to the forest floor.
    She shook her head. She'd be damned by the goddess if she broke bread with this motley crew of bandits.
    He pushed it into her hands, making it slosh over her wrists. "Eat," he said.
    "No," she said.
    He sent a hurried glance over his shoulder, obviously checking to see if his men were watching as she rebuked him. Then he pushed next to her on the log, nearly sending her over it backwards.
    "You need to keep your strength up," he said.
    "Why," she retorted. "So I can act the docile filly to all of your raging stallions?"
    His face went tight. "I promised you that wouldn't happen." He took the bowl from