Iadrawyn weaved between the trees, heading back to her shelter. She had given Valanandir more than enough time to clean himself up. Her pack was laden with the carcass of a rabbit and some nuts and berries she had foraged, and she carried an armload of wood for the fire. She was careful to leave no tracks in the snow. She did not want to lead anyone back to her hiding place.
She found herself eager to see Valanandir again, even though they had only been separated for a few hours. Despite their tribal differences, they shared a certain kinship. She felt comfortable with him in a way she never had with anyone else. She didn’t know what would happen when he was recovered enough to take care of himself. He was stranded here on the mainland, in the wood of a tribe that would most likely persecute him if they knew of his existence. She tried her best not to think about it.
Nevertheless, Iadrawyn felt a growing uneasiness she could not explain. She felt a sense of urgency to return to Valanandir’s side. Her intuition had never steered her wrong in the past, so she increased her pace.
The nagging feeling grew with each step. As she drew close to her shelter, she realized how quiet the woods had become. She was surrounded by an unnatural silence. The usual chatter and rustling of wildlife had vanished. Iadrawyn felt the hair on the back of her neck rise in warning. The clearing with her wayward pine was just ahead.
She set aside her pile of wood and drew her knife, approaching the area with caution. Her eyes darted about, assessing the situation.
There were tracks everywhere. She could clearly see where Valanandir had left and re-entered the shelter several times to fill the pot with snow for his bath. She forced her increasing dread aside to search for more clues. Something else caught her eye.
There, in the snow, was a second set of prints. The faint trail circled around the base of the tree. She followed it, her heart in her throat.
On the far side of the tree, the tracks led under its sheltering branches. Iadrawyn froze in place, her ears straining for any sound of life within the shelter. She heard none.
Pulling the branches aside, she followed the prints within, her knife held tight in her fist. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The fire had died down to embers. The shelter was empty.
Valanandir was gone.
Iadrawyn forced down her rising panic. She peered at the forest floor. The pine needles on the ground were disturbed on the other side of the fire. She knelt for a closer look.
The prints of the intruder showed him facing Valanandir, but there was no trace of Valanandir leaving the shelter. Iadrawyn knew he didn’t have sufficient skill to walk without leaving a print. She felt a deep sense of foreboding.
Her eyes swept the ground. It appeared that Valanandir had been crouching by the fire when the intruder had arrived. Her heart contracted painfully as she noticed some dark droplets on the carpet of pine needles. She lifted them for a closer look. They stained her fingers a sticky, dark red.
It was blood.
Iadrawyn forced herself to remain calm. Whomever the blood belonged to, there wasn’t much of it. She continued to investigate the signs that had been left behind.
The intruder’s tracks stopped at the fire, where it appeared a confrontation had occurred. Yet it was clear both the intruder and Valanandir had left. Iadrawyn noticed the carpet of pine needles had been scattered in a wide line leading out from under the tree on a different angle from where the intruder had entered. It was as if something—or more likely, someone—had been dragged.
Iadrawyn followed this second trail out from under the pine. The drag marks continued in the snow for several paces before the intruder’s prints reappeared. They were much deeper in the snow than they had been on the approach to the shelter.
Iadrawyn looked up to see where the tracks headed. Her heart sank. Whoever the intruder was, they were making a beeline for the village with a helpless Valanandir in tow. Iadrawyn estimated the trail was two hours old.
She silently berated herself for leaving Valanandir alone for so long. Even though his wounds were healing, he was still weak from the attack on his ship. He was in no shape to defend himself from an armed attacker. She also had a bad feeling about how her village would react when they saw him. What if the drakhal was still there?
Iadrawyn sprang into action. She had to get to Valanandir before it was too late. With the trail laid out before her, she started to run.
Light Chasers (The World of Lasniniar Book 0) Page 7