Through the Tears by Leigh M. Lorien

Author:Leigh M. Lorien [Lorien, Leigh M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, fantasy, gray-ace/gray-aro, transgender, bonded, monsters, violence, anxiety attacks
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2019-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

EAMON

When morning came, Eamon bathed and washed his clothes. A spot of sun helped dry his breeches, but the process still set them behind by half a day—Eamon didn’t mind though. After a thorough inspection of his injuries, Beah let him nap in a patch of grass. He was groggy when he first woke, but, once he’d eaten and dressed, Beah insisted they pack up and continue their journey.

Before long, they reached the place where the ghoul had attacked Eamon and found the tree had crushed the creature. Other animals had been at its body all night, feeding, and blackish-red bones jutted out through gaps in the flesh. What Eamon had thought was the thing bearing down on him with claws and weight had merely been branches of the tree scraping and striking him. He fetched his arrows from the ghoul’s body, proud to see he’d hit the thing directly in the eye after all.

“Impressive,” Beah said, watching Eamon tug the arrow free. “I guess the goddess Wesige favors you.”

“I guess all the practice I put in favors me,” Eamon replied with a smile and a wink. Beah made a half nod of agreement and smiled in return as Eamon cleaned the blood and gunk off his weapon with leaves and grass. Somehow, his bow had survived the impact from the tree. He would have to give Rafe’s weaponsmith some kind of thank you gift when he returned home.

They continued on after the pause to reclaim his arrows, neither talking much. Eamon’s head throbbed dully, so he had no desire to speak, and Beah was quiet by nature. The forest was still a comforting place to Eamon, but after the encounter last night, he was glad to have company. Especially company carrying a sword. Beah’s loose-wrapped clothing wasn’t as suited to forest travel as Eamon’s tighter, heavier garments, and the other man fell behind frequently to untangle himself from the underbrush. The murderous expression on his face when Eamon laughed about it made Eamon laugh even harder, and when Beah let out a resigned sigh, it reminded Eamon so much of Rafe, he couldn’t stop chuckling for an hour. Beah tolerated it with a sage patience that belied his age.

“You’ll like Rafe,” Eamon said after a while.

“What makes you say so?”

“He looks at me with the exact same long-suffering expressions you do.”

Beah snorted. “Do you laugh at his frustrations too?”

“When they’re funny.” Eamon flashed a grin at his companion and got an eye roll in return.

His injuries from being struck and clawed by the branches of a falling tree were minor annoyances, barely noticeable as he walked, but late in the day, Eamon was overcome by a searing agony that drove him to the ground instantly. His leg—his leg, oh gods! A flaming blade straight to the bone from hip to knee, ripping through flesh and muscle as if they were no thicker than flower petals.

He screamed.

Beah was on his knees beside him in an instant. “Shh, Eamon! What

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