Kyva found at last, a narrow deer-path as she wandered in search of her fox companion.
Her heart beat quickly within her chest at the thought of crossing paths with the warden. She had no notion where they had gone, nor how long their absence might last. It seemed not unlikely that they would soon discover they had seized the wrong quarry and turn back toward this very place. Yet even so, she pressed on.
She must find her fox.
Only now did she realize how greatly its presence had eased the loneliness of her wandering. The creature's quiet company had been a comfort in this strange wood, and she felt its loss keenly. It was a foolish thing, perhaps, to hazard her life for such a small companion. Yet foolish or no, she searched on.
Kyva pushed through the gray shrubs, kneeling now and again to peer into small hollows and burrows. Every so often she called softly to the fox, her voice careful and low in case it lingered somewhere nearby.
The forest grew darker the farther she went, though it was still day. The branches above wove together so tightly that the sunlight could barely reach the ground, and the atmosphere shifted.
When she stooped beside a crooked shrub, a cluster of small beady eyes blinked out at her from the shadowed leaves.
Frightened, Kyva jerked back, her heart catching as she stumbled back onto the path. Her pulse hammered in her ear as she hurried away from the bush. But, the deeper she went, the darker and more dreadful the path became.
It seemed to her that no hunter's step had ever trod this far into the forest's heart. The silence here was thick and watchful, and Kyva could not shake the feeling that unseen things marked her passage. It felt as though the very moment she let down her guard, something lurking in the gloom might spring forth and seize her.
Unable to ignore the ache in her knee, Kyva lowered herself onto a cold, weathered rock. From her satchel, she drew her flask and gave it a small shake before lifting it to her lips, drinking the scant water that yet remained.
But the relief was brief.
How long was she meant to endure this?
When she had fled the establishment, she had truly believed that the world beyond its walls would be kinder. But now she was no longer certain. Freedom had brought her little but hunger, weariness and the constant dread of pursuit. Traders hunted her trail, and worse still, she now bore the stain of a murderer's name.
With this brand, burned into the flesh of her back like a mark upon cattle, it had become a curse she could neither hide nor outrun. Any soul who knew the sign would recognize what she was, and she might not be as lucky as she was with Liam.
Kyva stared down at the dark earth between her bare feet, and a terrible idea stirred within her.
Maybe…
Maybe she could just carve it out?
The notion settled over her like a shadow.
Reaching into her satchel, Kyva drew out the dagger she had carried since her escape from the camp.
She turned the blade slowly in her hand, watching the dull light of the forest glint along its edges.
How painful could it truly be?
Surely not as painful as spending the rest of her life branded like livestock. Not as painful as belonging to someone she barely knew, never even granted the dignity of her own name.
She was fortunate enough to still remember her name. Most slaves she knew in the establishment were beaten and tormented until they ceased to remember who they had once been, until they accepted that they were nothing more than nameless properties.
Kyva had survived because she had learned to play along.
It was why the warden had taken to calling her little slave, like it was her proper title. It was a constant reminder that she was no person at all, but something to be owned.
Something to be kept.
She hated it.
Her fingers trembled as she twisted slightly, guiding the blade behind her shoulder. The cold metal brushed her skin as she searched for the place where the flesh had raised in a cruel ridge, the scar where the warden had burned the mark into her back without mercy.
There.
The blade came to rest upon it.
All she had to do was press down.
Just carve away that small piece of flesh.
Her grip tightened.
But her arm refused to move.
The dagger quivered faintly in her grasp before, little by little, she lowered it away from her skin.
She could not do it.
Not now.
Not like this.
Every bone in her body ached, and fear gnawed constantly at the edges of her mind. Kyva could scarcely fathom how she still found the strength to move at all, for she had not rested enough to exhaust it the way she had been doing.
And once again—
She was alone.
The frustration rose within her too swiftly to be mastered. With a choked breath, she let the dagger fall from her hand, where it struck the stone beside her with a dull sound.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she buried her face against them. Her shoulders trembled as a quiet sob escaped her, small and broken in the heavy silence of the forest.
What was she meant to do now?
The question circled endlessly through her thoughts, offering no answer.
"I only wish to go home," she whispered, and even as the words left her lips, another thought followed close behind.
Was there still a home to go to?
—--
It proved far easier than Calhoun had anticipated to trace the human girl.
His keen sense of smell guided him along the narrow deer-path, her faint scent lingering in the air like a fragile thread. With every step he took deeper into the woods, the trace of her only grew stronger.
'Foolish creature' he mused inwardly.
What sort of human girl would dare venture this deep into the forest alone? Had it not been for the sharpness of his senses, even he might have found the task of locating her troublesome.
Yet she was a stubborn one.
Calhoun found himself faintly surprised by the distance she had managed to travel, especially in the state she had been in. For someone so grievously injured, she had covered no small ground.
When he drew nearer, he halted abruptly when he heard someone weeping.
At once, his steps quieted, his movements becoming soundless as he advanced through the trees. And there he found her.
His human.
She sat upon an ugly-looking rock, her knees drawn close to her chest as she clung to them, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed quietly in the open.
At the sight, something within Calhoun's chest tightened with a sharp, sudden force. So unexpected was the pain that his hand rose instinctively to clutch his chest.
Now why was she weeping?
And why did it make his chest feel as though it had been torn open?
The sensation was wholly unfamiliar to Calhoun, unsettling in a manner he could not quite name.
To behold her thus— so small, and so utterly defeated— stirred a strange displeasure within him. It made him regret, if only slightly, that he had not slain those men when the opportunity had presented itself.
A mistake.
One he would be certain to amend once his strength had fully returned.
Yes… that would suffice as repayment for the curious kindness she had shown him, including helping him recover this far. For a human, she had treated him rather well.
However, he could not reveal himself to her just yet. Not in his true form.
Were she to behold him as he truly was, the girl would likely die faster than she was probably anticipating, and how was she going to accept him afterwards?
With a quiet breath, Calhoun gathered what little strength remained to him and willed his form to change.
A faint shimmer passed over him as his body shrank, the same light encompassing him until he was back to being a tiny fox cub.
He really despised this form.
To be reduced to a fox cub was beneath the dignity of a prince.
And yet… it was the only guise in which he might remain at the human girl's side.
Exhaling in defeat, Calhoun padded toward her. The girl was still weeping softly to herself when he brushed his head against her feet, a deliberate nudge meant to draw her attention.
She was startled at once.
When she looked down and saw him, her eyes widened in pure disbelief. A moment later, they softened, glistening with something akin to relief.
Once again, he found himself momentarily ensnared by this woman.
Her eyes were bright with tears, their surface shimmering in the dappled forest light. And strangely enough, she appeared even more mesmerizing.
His heart beat once.
Then twice.
Then, quite improperly for a prince of his standing, it stumbled into a disordered rhythm.
Was the human practicing some peculiar human sorcery?
"You came back!"
Kyva, utterly astonished that the fox had somehow found his way back to her, scooped the small creature into her arms before he could so much as step away.
"I've been searching for you," she said, hastily brushing at her tears with the back of her sleeve. "I thought you were gone for good, but you came back. I was so worried you'd get caught in another trap."
Feeling overwhelmed, her arms tightened around the cub as she buried her face against his soft fur.
"Let's stay together from now on."
Within her embrace, Calhoun's teeth clenched at her audacity.
He attempted to wiggle free, though his efforts were far less dignified than he would have liked. The truth was far more troubling than the indignity of being held with such effortless care.
He was… flustered.
Alarmingly so.
Had she not been weeping but moments ago?
And now she clutched him as though he were some beloved companion.
His face heated.
'Unhand me this instant, you madwoman!'