by Frost Kay
“And what’s that?”
“A kiss.”
Oh, boy.
Nine
Hazel
Hazel’s fingers twitched near her sides, brushing the gritty surface beneath her. Sand? Well, that was peculiar. Why was there sand in her bed?
She cracked her eyes open and immediately regretted it. A groan slipped from her mouth as pain slammed into her. The stars above her swirled and her head pounded in sync with her galloping heart. Stars? Where the hell was she?
A flash of Aaron passed through her mind. Her breath seized. That bastard had pushed her from the Jeep—a moving vehicle.
Hazel jerked up into a sitting position only to slam back to the ground as agony assaulted her. Stones bit into her back, but that was the least of her pain. Her right hand fluttered over her ribs and the hot skin of her left arm. Heat radiated from her forearm, along with pulses of pain. That sure felt like a broken arm.
Gritting her teeth, she gently pressed against the tender flesh. Stars flashed across her vision and her stomach rolled. She turned her throbbing head just in time to spill the contents of her stomach. Bile burned the back of her throat and inside her nose, causing her eyes to water. She squeezed her eyes closed and panted, trying to work through the pain.
Aaron tried to kill her, and no one had said a thing. Sick and wrong. It was one thing to bully someone, but another thing to stand aside when they drugged you and attempted to kill you.
Slowly, she turned her head away from the contents of her stomach and weakly wiped her mouth with the back of her right hand. She held her hand up to the moonlight and squinted at the damaged flesh. It looked like her hand had been run through a meat grinder, everything raw and bleeding. She’d helped their doctors in Harbor, so blood and wounds weren’t unfamiliar, but there was something about it being her body that made the world waver around her.
She snapped her eyes shut and attempted to slow her breathing. You cannot pass out, Hazel Bresh. If you pass out, you’re vulnerable.
With care, Hazel placed her hand by her side and hissed when pain rocked her body just from that little movement. She stared up at the night sky as the force of her predicament slapped her in the face. She was in the wilderness. By herself. Without her weapons. Her heart sped up as fear began to trickle into her veins. One thing at a time, Hazel. Do not panic.
First, she needed to discover her location. She’d never been out here, so that would make it difficult. Was it possible she’d only passed out for a moment? She desperately scanned the area around her in hopes of seeing taillights. Her heart sank.
No sign of the Jeep. Or any humans. Nothing but moonlit desert on one side and a darkened forest on the other. But that was okay. She’d follow the Jeep tracks in the morning. Her gaze darted to the tree line and a shiver worked down her spine as she stared at the deeply shadowed woods. Aaron was the least of her worries right now. If her injuries didn’t kill her, the Tainted that lurked out here would. Terror seized her as her brothers’ stories of monsters filtered through her memory.
Unnatural. Disfigured and deadly. Nightmares in the flesh.
A sob built in her chest as the dark shadows between the trees began to form monsters.
She would die. It was only a matter of time.
Tears tracked down her cheeks in wet rivulets, her body trembling as the cool ground seeped into the back of her torn shirt. Another sob bubbled up, but she stifled it. Hazel squinted at the unmoving sinister shapes, her bottom lip quivering. One lifted its arm and waved at her. She blinked and stifled the hysterical laugh threatening to slip past her lips. A damn branch.
They’re not real monsters. It’s just your imagination, and you’re in shock. Calm down. You need to get out of here before real monsters arrive.
Hazel pulled in a shuddering breath and exhaled softly. She couldn’t panic or let fear rule her. If she did, she’d die. Her brows furrowed as she went over the training her brothers had drilled into her over the years. She needed to assess her injuries, acquire a weapon, and find high ground. The rest would have to wait until the morning.
If she made it until morning.
Her breath rushed out as her eyes darted around. She’d already been exposed for too long. It was a bloody miracle nothing had picked her off yet. Her pulse picked up and she had to remind herself to breathe steadily. There was no time to panic. Each moment she dallied was one closer to death.
Muscle by muscle, she forced herself to relax and then began her examination.
“Damn it,” she breathed as she probed her ribs. Bruised to hell, but at least none were broken like her arm. Climbing with broken ribs would be nearly impossible. Next, she shifted her legs and toes. That hurt but brought a smile to her face. At least she could move them. That meant her spine wasn’t damaged.
Something rustled behind her and she froze. The hair on her arms rose when the rustling stopped and silence descended. Hazel held her breath and cocked her head toward the sound.
Nothing—nothing that she could see, anyway.
Never taking her eyes away from the trees, she slid her hand toward a rock by her side. Her fingers curled around the stone and she waited. Every creak from the trees had her on edge. Five minutes passed, and then ten, but nothing stirred or rustled.
She was injured prey, an easy target. If there was something hunting her, surely it would have pounced already. That was enough to push her into continuing her examination.
Hazel kept her eyes on the forest, forced her fingers to release her death hold on the rock at her side, and began to gingerly run her hand over her face. She nearly yelped when her fingers pressed into an oozing wound near her right temple. A curse slipped from her lips as her fingers came away wet. She wouldn’t bleed to death, but that much blood would draw every Tainted within a half mile in her direction. Her pulse picked up pace. She had to get out of here. Now.
She ran her tongue along her busted bottom lip, and then along the swollen ridge of the inside of her cheek. She’d taken a chunk out of her cheek and bitten her lip at some point, but all her teeth were still intact. Her gaze wandered to her limp left arm and then back to the trees. She’d survive her injuries, provided there wasn’t any internal damage.
Time to go. She clutched at her jeans with her good hand. This would hurt. A grunt escaped through her clenched teeth as she struggled to sit up. She clamped her lips closed against the cry struggling to get out. The world spun, forcing her to release her grip on her jeans and steady herself. Her jagged nails dug into the sand and sweat beaded on her brow. She was upright, but the worst was yet to come.
Cracking her eyes, she scanned the ground and smiled grimly at the small stick lying within reach. She plucked in from the ground and placed it between her teeth, ignoring the crunch of grit. Rubbing the bottom of her tank-top between her fingers, she steeled herself against her next task. As carefully as possible, she wedged her hand underneath her left forearm. Tears sprang to her eyes and her stomach churned with the pain, but she swallowed hard and lifted her left arm.
A bellowing cry burst from her throat as she placed her arm across the bottom of her shirt and straightened the bone pressing against her skin unnaturally. Colors danced across her vision and drool dripped down her chin as pain threatened to drown her. Horrendous. If a Tainted beast attacked her at that moment, she would’ve welcomed it with wide arms to get rid of the terrible pain. She dry-heaved and panted as the acute pain receded to a persistent throb, but it was mild enough that she could grab the edge of her torn tank-top. Now, time to create a sling.
She whimpered when she lifted the edge and tied it to her left strap with the help of her teeth. Tears dripped down her face and weariness settled over her as the cool air brushed against her exposed midriff. What she wouldn’t do for a nap. Her eyelids lowered, and her head dropped as if her neck wasn’t strong enough to hold it up. Not a good sign. She needed the adrenaline to keep her going and could not afford it to wane.
A lone howl tore thro
ugh the air.
Ice seemed to leach into her veins and her eyes snapped open, all traces of sleepiness disappearing.
“Stars above,” she whispered through numb lips. The hunt had begun.
She forced herself to stand on wobbly legs and lurched toward the forest. Terror like no other squeezed her heart. Who knew what kind of beast it was … but whatever it was, it sounded big and hungry.
Her sandal snapped, causing her to stumble and almost lose her footing. Of all the days to wear sandals. Hazel kicked both shoes off and half ran, half stumbled, toward the shadows. She didn’t need shoes to run.
Another howl rent the air.
Her breath seized, and she changed directions. It sounded so much closer, and it had come from a different direction. Panic twisted in her gut. Were there two? Or was the Tainted moving that quickly? Was it possible she was running straight toward it?
She didn’t have time to second-guess herself. The desert offered no shelter or protection. She entered the tree line and had to force herself to keep moving into the darkness. Practically blind, she tripped and stumbled but managed to keep upright. She squinted at the trees, and her panic doubled. She couldn’t climb any of them. The branches were too far apart—impossible for someone with only one arm to climb.
Hazel forced herself to keep moving. Each wasted second put her in more danger. She swung around a large tree and almost shouted with relief. A huge tree loomed ahead of her with a branch low enough that she could pull herself up. She started for it when a howl pierced the silence, followed by three answering calls echoing in her ears.
Fear had her scrambling up the tree. White flashed across her vision as she jarred her arm in the mad climb, the rough bark tearing at her bare feet and hands. A small cry escaped her when her foot slipped. Hazel gritted her teeth and dug her toes into a little notch on the tree trunk. She wrapped her arm around the branch and pushed up with all her might. Her breath stuttered when her torso slammed into the branch, her ribs screaming. A snarl had her jerking her legs up just as something snapped its teeth below her.
She balked when she locked eyes with a black-eyed, tainted beast. A lobo. Originally, it might have been a coyote, but it was now bigger than any wolf she’d ever read about. It growled, its lips pulling back over its teeth. That’s the only warning she received before it lunged again. Hazel jerked back, wobbling precariously over the branch as its teeth snapped beneath where her face had been. She grabbed the branch above and heaved while turning, so that she sat on the branch with her feet pulled up. Her whole body trembled as she tucked her feet underneath her and forced herself to climb higher into the tree. One mistake and she was toast.
Three more beasts burst from the foliage and she froze. She hadn’t even heard them approach. That wasn’t good. Lobos were usually solitary creatures unless they were teaching their pups to hunt. One lobo was survivable, but three? A shiver worked through her as she climbed higher, each movement calculated and precise. It was hard to keep her eyes from the snarling monsters below her. Every time she looked away from them, it felt like she was tempting fate. Hazel screamed when the largest beast ran at the tree and used the trunk as a springboard. Its paws scrabbled at the branch before it slipped and fell back to the ground.
They’re trying to climb the tree.
She clutched at the tree as it swayed, her eyes wide. It had jumped at least ten feet. Not only were they vicious, but they were smart. That did not bode well for her. She reached for the next branch and made to stand when her foot slipped. Her mouth opened, but no sound escaped as she fell. She slammed into the tree trunk and screamed as her arm caught between branches. A broken arm was nothing compared to the searing pain shooting down her shoulder and arm. Blinking through her tears, she placed her feet on the first branch she could and locked her legs. Her whole body shook as she pulled her arm from the branches. There was no way she could climb any higher now. She’d pass out and fall from the tree. Hazel wedged herself into a tangle of branches and wrapped herself around the tree limbs.
Blood dripped down her good arm in a constant stream. The dark concealed much of her wound, but she knew it was bad. She needed to stop the bleeding, but all she had were leaves and her jeans.
Hazel snagged a few large leaves from the branches and used her finger tips of her broken arm to set them on the massive gash running down her right arm. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Her arms and legs flashed hot and then cold. The world around her warped and spun. Her cheeks met the rough bark as she fought the dizziness that was as dangerous as the beasts below her. What she wouldn’t give for a length of rope. The growls below her were enough of a reminder to keep her fighting the pain. All she had to do was make it through the night.
One of the Tainted let loose a snarl that would surely haunt her dreams.
It would be a long night. Hopefully, her blood wouldn’t call anymore beasties.
Ten
Hazel
A day and a half passed. Despite all odds, she’d survived two nights in the wilds, but her time was coming to an end. The tree had been her salvation, but it had also become her prison.
“Stupid animals,” she whispered through cracked lips, glaring down at the lobos that hadn’t ceased their circling. They had been snapping and growling for hours. The largest paused and tilted its snout up at her, growling. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t like you that much either.”
Everything hurt. Even her hair hurt. She didn’t even know that was possible. Her main problem wasn’t the broken arm or … she glanced at the jagged gash that ran from her shoulder to forearm; it still wept blood, despite her leafy bandages. She needed stitches, but more so—water. Hazel rolled her head to the side and swallowed against her dry throat. The more she dwelled on it, the thirstier she became.
Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against the rough bark. Sleep was the answer. The pain, hunger, fear, and thirst all disappeared when she slept. But her mind didn’t shut down. It wandered toward a subject she hadn’t let herself dwell on—her family.
What were they doing right now? Were they searching for her? A pang of guilt stabbed her. If only she’d said no to Aaron and gone home. She’d let her emotions decide instead of her mind. It was utterly stupid, and she knew better. Her heart squeezed. Her brothers would mourn her, but it would kill her poor papa. He was hard on her and sheltered her, but it was because he loved her. Her eyes stung, but no tears came. Now she’d never see them again, and that was on her.
The idea of never having her brothers steal food from the counter when she was cooking, or her papa draping blankets over them when they fell asleep on the couch, or sitting around a fire to celebrate a good day of hard work, about broke her.
A spark of anger burned in her gut, dissolving some of her numbness. Taking responsibility for her actions was a bitter pill to swallow, but the deceit and betrayal of Aaron, Colton, and Gen cut deep. Part of her wanted to rant and scream at the world for what they’d done, but frankly, she didn’t have the energy for it.
Another snarl brought her back to herself. Hazel glanced down at the largest of the wolves and bared her teeth. “Oh, shut up! I’m sick and tired of hearing all of your racket. Go find your meal somewhere else!”
Its pointed ears laid back against its skull, never losing eye contact.
“Get out of here,” she growled down at it.
The lobos snarled at her challenge but didn’t budge. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Hazel itched to blink, but she didn’t dare. She wouldn’t be marked as weak. Even in her dire circumstances, she found beauty in the situation. The beast’s fur was wine-colored, with a light terracotta striped pattern, similar to that of a tiger she’d read about once. She’d never seen one this close before. What had caused that genetic mutation? Tigers weren’t found in the old United States unless it escaped from a zoo.
She blinked when the beast shook its head and snarled at her one last time before darting into the trees.
She frowned. What had caused that response? Was it because she didn’t back down? Doubtful. The two other beasts’ ears perked up, and soon followed out of sight. Odd. What would have scared them off? She shuddered, the answer clear. Larger predators.
Fear ran down her spine. If it scared the pack off of their prey, it must be something fearsome. With slow, careful movements she lifted her head and surveyed the surrounding area. Nothing stirred. She held still and listened to the surrounding forest. No birds chirped. It was as if the forest held its breath.
Sweat beaded at her nape and she placed her cheek against the tree, trying to blend in. Whatever lurked out there was dangerous enough that the whole forest wanted to escape its notice. She couldn’t afford to attract its attention. Minutes trickled by and her skin pebbled in the silence. Each breath seemed too loud.
She jerked, and a scream caught in her throat when a bird cawed, shattering the quiet. Her pulse galloped, but she kept still. In increments, the forest sounds resumed, and her racing heart slowed. Whatever the danger had been, it had passed. This was her chance to escape.
But her body didn’t want to move.
Hazel turned her face toward the tree and pressed her forehead against it. She needed to move, but the task ahead felt like too much. How was she to climb down without the use of her arms? Her gaze slid down. It had to be close to twenty feet to the ground. It wasn’t possible to jump from that high. Helplessness washed over her.
If she stayed here, she died. If she slipped while climbing down, she died. If she stumbled across a predator, she died. Every path led to her death.
“Stop it,” she growled at herself. “You’re not weak. This is challenging, but it’s not impossible.”
Nothing was impossible. If she set her mind to it, she could do it.
She eyed the distance to the ground and the surrounding branches. If she moved slowly and chose her path with care, she could do it. Painfully. Her father didn’t believe she had the grit her mother did. Time to prove him wrong.