Savage Wild Souls (The Savage Wilds Book 2) by Sean Fletcher

Author:Sean Fletcher [Fletcher, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epic Worlds Publishing
Published: 2024-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

I checked on Luella over the next couple days, between coordinating Rune’s next move and helping bury the dead. We let the Wilds consume the bodies of Those Below, but Marian insisted burying the wildlings by hand. I avoided looking at their faces as we covered them with dirt. Seconds after finishing, white corpse flowers grew over top of the graves. The scent was so sweet I felt sick.

I wasn’t surprised that Rune came to help, and none of the others were either. He remained stone-faced throughout the burials. He didn’t say a eulogy. He didn’t comfort anyone crying. He didn’t even acknowledge Marian threading more pieces of carved wood around her necklace, one for each wildling we’d lost. Rune had confided to me once that after you’d lost so much, you became numb to it, but still I felt myself wishing he would show that there was some part of him that mourned.

For the rest of the time, I joined Cassius and others in searching the surrounding areas for more crevasses. If Vanesi had been able to find a place to slip beneath the earth, I had no doubt she’d head straight back to Sotera, whether compelled by her magic or out of spite. That didn’t mean I wanted to make it easier for her to get back.

I closed up the couple openings we found, until the spiky crystal tips barred anyone but the smallest insect from getting through. It was difficult to ignore the other wildlings’ looks of suspicion as I did so. Some of them whispered about me when they thought I wasn’t listening. Others did so when they knew I was.

“What are you looking at?” Cassius snapped at one of the girls who was giving me a glare akin to driving a knife into my back. “Go check for more crevasses.”

After a disgruntled sniff, she joined the others as they spread out to search.

“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t blame them. Those Below—those like me—killed their friends.”

“You’re not like them,” he insisted fiercely, and I felt a great swell of gratitude toward him. Mog Moren, for all it had done to him, hadn’t taken his kindness.

It was late when we finished up and returned to the marsh. Erebus had only grown more restless since being unable to join the fight against Vanesi, so I split off into the nearest glade and let him run free. I told myself that we’d done all we could, that Vanesi nor anyone else would get the drop on us. But they already had once. I suspected, no matter what we did, they would again.

I was flagging with exhaustion when I reached the mansion. A bone-deep tiredness had latched onto me since the Below and never left. Only fighting and dancing along the edge of death seemed to alleviate it, though I knew neither of those things were good for my long-term survival.

A few of the wildlings I’d gone out with were gathered in the kitchen, murmuring in low, sleepy voices. Some of them abruptly stopped talking when I came in, watching me with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

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