Amaranthe poked around, looking for a good spot to stand watch. Meanwhile, Sicarius unloaded her repeating crossbow and handed rifles to the men.
“Sleep with your boots on and your weapons close,” he told them.
They accepted the rifles grimly. Sicarius applied poison to Amaranthe’s crossbow quarrels and headed over to where she had found her lookout position-a broad tree leaning over the pond. She could put her back against it and see in all directions except the water.
“One of my school friends said you can tell a man likes you when he starts doing you little favors,” Amaranthe said. “I wonder if she would have counted the application of poison to one’s weapons.”
Sicarius handed her the crossbow and pointed at her pistol. “You have powder and balls?”
“Yes. No comment on favors, eh?”
Sicarius handed her a cloak, threw a second around himself, and headed into the darkness. He skimmed up a tree with low branches and settled into a crook ten feet up.
“You are an eccentric and unique individual, Sicarius,” she said under her breath.
She tried to imagine him married and living in a house in the countryside with a passel of toddlers running around. The vision did not evolve far. If he ever married, it’d have to be to someone who would follow him into the woods and up a tree.
With dinner done, the men settled in. Maldynado talked Basilard into a Strat-Tiles game, proclaiming his interest in educating him in the ways of Turgonian military strategy. And perhaps he would like to wager a few coins as well? Basilard proceeded to beat Maldynado three times.
Once everyone was asleep, either in the tent or the back of the lorry, Amaranthe grew more aware of the night pressing in around her. The mist thickened, obscuring the surface of the pond, though occasional plops and splashes reminded her the water lay behind her. Now and then leaves rustled and branches rattled. Small creatures darting through the area, she assumed.
The forest seemed busy for night, but she did not have enough experience to know what was normal. The coyotes’ agitated wails continued to assault her ears, but she found a calm detachment after a while. A distinct eeriness pervaded the area, but nothing had bothered them yet. No need to worry.
A soft crunch came from her left, then another. Not like the passing of the earlier creatures, more like the soft malevolent step of something stalking closer.
Now there was a reason to worry.
Her grip tightened on the crossbow. She could shoot five rounds before reloading, plenty to handle a predator. She hoped.
Amaranthe cocked an ear, listening for a repeat of the noise. Though her vision had adjusted to the darkness, deep shadows turned bushes into indistinct blobs and trees into barriers that could hide a coyote-or ten.
Two green glowing spots appeared. Her breath caught. Eyes?
She blinked, thinking her own straining eyes were playing tricks. The glowing points disappeared.
“My imagination,” she breathed.
Heartbeats thumped past, and the lights did not reappear. She realized she had been gaping in the same direction for a long time and quickly scanned the rest of the area. Lastly, she craned her neck to peer around her tree backrest.
Across the pond, luminous green eyes stared at her.
Amaranthe forced her breathing to remain steady and calm, though sweat dampened her palms. This time, when the eyes disappeared, they tilted before winking out, like a head ducking sideways.
She fingered the trigger of her crossbow. Should she wake Sicarius? If this was some trick of her imagination, she would appear foolish in front of him. It shouldn’t, but his favorable opinion mattered more than most. Perhaps because he offered it to so few.
She decided to find out what lurked out there before waking anyone. It was not as if she had no combat skills to call upon if the moment required it.
Amaranthe strode to the lorry. The fire burned low with only scattered flames guttering amongst the red and gray coals. While keeping an eye toward the surrounding forest, she dug a few fire-starters out of the footlocker. Akstyr snoozed, so she took his lantern. The soft light showed no sign of the cuts and bruises he should have sported after Maldynado’s pummeling. Huh.
A low growl emanated from the underbrush on the other side of the road. Amaranthe hooked the lantern over her forearm, so she could hold the crossbow in one hand and a fire-starter in the other. She lit the incendiary ball and lobbed it onto the road. It burned heartily, illuminating the wet concrete for several feet around. Nothing waited within the light’s influence.
Trusting the fire-starter to burn for a few minutes, Amaranthe headed back to her spot by the tree. Another growl rumbled through the night. Ahead of her, green eyes glowed.
She lit another fire-starter and lofted it. The eyes flashed away before her projectile hit the ground, but not before she glimpsed gray fur and four legs.
“A wolf?” she whispered, thinking it too large for a coyote. Though it did not remind her of the killer soul construct she had faced in the city, she did not relax as the tiny bundle of flames smoldered on the wet leaf litter. What kind of wolf had glowing eyes? It had to be something magical, or-
“What are you doing?” Sicarius’s voice floated from his tree perch.
“The usual night-watch activities.” She tried to keep her tone light. Neither the creepy forest nor the creepy wolves were going to make her nervous, thank you very much. “Staying awake, counting trees, throwing fire at wolves with glowing eyes.”
“Glowing what?”
The ferns behind the smoking fire-starter shook. A wolf leaped across the burning ball and charged Amaranthe.
She fired the crossbow, scarcely taking time to aim.
The quarrel slammed into one of the beast’s eyes.
Relieved by the accuracy of her reflexes, Amaranthe started to lower the weapon. But the wolf did not slow down. It sprinted at her, quarrel protruding from its eye.
She dropped the lantern to pull the lever and chamber another bolt, but the beast moved too quickly. It leaped, fanged maw stretching open.
Amaranthe hurled the crossbow at the wolf and dodged behind the tree. She tore her sword free.
The beast landed, whirled, and sprang at her again. She whipped her blade across, slashing into its jugular.
She ducked as the wolf’s momentum carried it toward her. It clipped her shoulder, tumbled across her back, and crashed into the tree. She lunged away and whirled to face it again, blade raised.
Sicarius halted at her side, his black dagger poised, as if he had been about to jump into the fray. The wolf lay still, though, its legs akimbo. Amaranthe lowered her sword, pleased she had handled it without his help. Though a simple forest predator should not have taken two killing blows to die.
Sicarius put his back to the tree and scanned the surrounding darkness. “Wolves don’t have glowing eyes.”
“Yes, I’m a tad new to mountain life, but I thought not.” Amaranthe retrieved her crossbow. “I think there’s more than one. I’m going to wake…”
Across the camp, near the back of the lorry, a pair of green eyes watched her. Three more sets appeared on the road, milling. Claws clacked softly on the concrete. A twig snapped on the other side of the pond.
“Go.” A throwing knife appeared in Sicarius’s hand. “Wake them.”
He hurled the weapon toward the lorry. It landed with a fleshy thump. The glowing orbs slumped downward, then winked out.
“Wake up, gentlemen!” Amaranthe ran to camp, crossbow in her right hand, short sword in her left. “Mutant wolves are attacking.”
Basilard lunged out of the tent, rifle in hand. Books stumbled out after.
“Build up the fire,” Amaranthe told them as she ran by to wake the others.
Snores emanated from the back of the lorry where Maldynado had joined Akstyr. She raised her sword to thump on the metal side. A figure blurred out of the darkness, sailing toward the lorry bed.