“And wasn’t it you who scoffed at me for sayin’ it? You’re ready to admit I was right?”
“That’s not the point,” Aspar snapped. “The point is you could have been killed.”
Winna’s eyebrows lowered dangerously. “Aspar White, you’re not the only one who knows a thing or two about the King’s Forest, at least hereabouts. And which of us was almost killed? It might as easily have been a wolf or a bandit that found you as it was me, and then you would’ve slept through your own death.”
“The same wolf could have found you.”
She uttered a terse laugh. “Yes, and been too fat on holterflesh to catch me. Aspar White, is this you wasting breath on something already done?”
He had a response to that, he was sure of it, but then another bout of sickness came over him, and it was all he could do not to vomit.
“You did touch one!” she said, her ire suddenly replaced by concern.
He shook his head. “I stopped by Tor Scath. Sir Symen found some dead like this, and lost two fingers for touching them. Why—why didn’t y’send someone? You shouldn’t have come yourself, Winn, whatever that old witch Cilth told you.”
She regarded him for a long moment.
“You’re a fool, Aspar White,” she said.
And then she kissed him.
“That’s enough firewood, I think,” Winna said, when Aspar returned with his fourth armload.
“I suppose it is,” he said. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then nodded to the rabbits roasting on spits over a small fire. “Those smell good.”
“They do.”
“Well. I should—”
“You should sit there and tell me what happened. I’ve never seen you like this, Asp. You seem … well, not frightened, but as close to it as I’ve known you to come. First I find you laid out like a dead man, then you want to ride at neck-breaking speed until it’s almost dark. What killed those people, Aspar? Do you think it’s after us?”
You left something out, there, Aspar thought to himself, remembering the touch of her breath on his. Something that’s muddying my thoughts considerably. He stood for a heartbeat longer, then took a seat across the fire from her. “I saw something.”
“Something? Some kind of animal?”
“Something that ought not to be.”
She spread her hands and shrugged, a silent go on?
“The Sefry had children’s stories about them. Maybe you heard them, too. About greffyns.”
“Greffyns? You think you saw a greffyn? A lion, with an eagle’s head and wings, and all?”
“Not exactly like that. I didn’t see any wings, or feathers. But someone as saw this might describe it that way. It was like a big cat, and it had a beak. It acted something like a bird.”
“Well, they’re supposed to hate horses. And lay golden eggs, I think. And wasn’t there a story about a knight who tamed one to ride?”
“Do you remember anything about poison?”
“Poison? No, I don’t.” She brightened. “Could it have been a basil-nix? They were supposed to be poison, remember? So poison they could hide in a tree and the fruit of the tree would kill whoever ate it.”
“That’s it. That’s what I was trying to remember. Winna, whatever I saw—what it touches, dies.”
“And what touches whatever it touches, too, it would seem.” Suddenly her face scrunched in horror. “It didn’t touch you, did it?”
“No. It looked at me, that’s all. But even that took its toll. Or it might have been poison vapor, in the air. I wat not. That’s why I was in such a hurry to leave, to get you away from there.”
“Where do you think it came from?”
“I don’t know. From the mountains, maybe.” He shrugged. “How did they kill them, in the stories?”
“Aspar. No.”
“I have to find it, Winn. You know that. I’m the holter. Maunt it.”
“Maunt it yourself: How can you kill something you can’t even look at? How do you know it can be killed?”
“Anything can be killed.”
“That’s just like you. Three days ago you didn’t even believe such a creature existed. Now you know for certain you can kill it.”
“I have to try,” he said stubbornly.
“Of course you do,” she said disgustedly. She turned the rabbits a bit.
“Are you sorry I kissed you?” she asked suddenly. Her face flushed red when she said it, but her voice was strong.
“Ah … no. I just—” He remembered how her lips had felt, the warm taste of them, the brush of her cheek against his, her eyes so close.
“I won’t do it again,” she went on.
“No, I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“No, next time you have to kiss me, Aspar White, if there’s going to be any kissing. Is that clear to you?”
Clear? No, not one damned bit! he thought.
“Werlic, it’s clear,” he lied. Did that mean she wanted him to come kiss her now, or that she thought it was a mistake?
One thing certain—in the soft light of the fire she looked very kissable.
“The rabbits are ready,” she said.
“Good. I’m hungry.”
“Come on then.” She handed him one of the spits. The coney was still sizzling when he bit into it. For a while he had the perfect excuse not to talk, or kiss, or do anything with his mouth but chew. But when he was down to greasy bones, the silence started becoming uncomfortable again.
“Winna, do you know the way to Tor Scath? It’s less than a day east of here.”
“I know where it is.”
“Could you make it there on your own? I don’t like asking it, but if I take you all the way there and then come back, I’m afraid I might lose the greffyn’s trail.”
“I’m not going to Tor Scath.”
“It’s too far back to Colbaely with things like that roaming the woods. In fact—” He broke off. The greffyn hadn’t had hands, had it? How would it nail people to trees and make a corral from their intestines?
“In fact, I’m not thinking clear. I’ll take you to Tor Scath. The greffyn’s trail will keep.”
“Aspar, if you take me to Tor Scath, I’ll slip off first chance I get, and I’ll follow you again. If you take me all the way back to Colbaely, I’ll do the same. If you don’t want me wandering the woods alone, you’ll take me with you, and that’s that.”
“Take you with me?”
“If you’re fool enough to hunt this thing, I won’t let you hunt it alone.”
“Winna—”
“It’s not an argument,” she said. “It’s fact.”
“Sceat! Winna, this monster is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever heard of, much less seen. If I have to worry about you as well as me—”
“Then you’ll be that much more careful, won’t you? You’ll think more carefully before doing something foolish.”
“I said no.”
“And I said it’s not an argument,” Winna finished. “Now— we can talk about something else, something more pleasant, or we can get some sleep and an early start. Which will it be?”
Aspar stirred the fire with the tip of the greasy skewer. Nearby, Ogre grumbled something.
“Do you want the first watch, or the morning?” he asked finally.
“Morning,” she said immediately. “Throw me that blanket. And don’t fail to wake me.”
Minutes later she was asleep. Aspar shouldered his bow and walked out of the circle of light. He had taken them back into the Brogh y Stradh, and a short distance away one of the many upland meadows showed through the trees. He stepped to the edge of it and regarded the rising moon. It was huge and orange, three-quarters full. A nightbird called to it, and Aspar shivered.
He had loved the forest at night, found leaves the most restful bed in the world. Now the dark felt like a cave full of vipers. He remembered the greffyn’s eye, its awful disdain. How did you kill something like that? Would the young priest have known? Probably not, and even if he did, it was too late. He’d be a day’s travel toward d’Ef by now.