Shadow and Bone

When we finally began the northwest descent out of the
Petrazoi, I was thrilled to leave the barren mountains and their
cold winds behind. My heart lifted as we descended below the
tree line and into a welcoming wood. After days of scrabbling
over hard ground, it was a pleasure to walk on soft beds of
pine needles, to hear the rustle of animals in the underbrush
and breathe air dense with the smell of sap.
We camped by a burbling creek, and when Mal began
gathering twigs for a fire, I nearly broke out in song. I
summoned a tiny, concentrated shaft of light to start the
flames, but Mal didn’t seem particularly impressed. He
disappeared into the woods and brought back a rabbit that we
cleaned and roasted for dinner. With a bemused expression, he
watched as I gobbled down my portion and then sighed, still
hungry.
“You’d be a lot easier to feed if you hadn’t developed an
appetite,” he groused, finishing his food and stretching out on
his back, his head pillowed on his arm.
I ignored him. I was warm for the first time since I’d left the
Little Palace, and nothing could spoil that bliss. Not even
Mal’s snores.
WE NEEDED TO RESTOCK our supplies before we headed
farther north into Tsibeya, but it took us another day and a half
to find a hunting trail that led us to one of the villages that lay
on the northwest side of the Petrazoi. The closer we got to
civilization, the more nervous Mal got. He would disappear for
long stretches, scouting ahead, keeping us moving parallel to
the town’s main road. Early in the afternoon, he appeared
wearing an ugly brown coat and a brown squirrel hat.
“Where did you find those?” I asked.
“I grabbed them from an unlocked house,” he said guiltily.
“But I left a few coins. It’s eerie, though—the houses are all
empty. I didn’t see anyone on the road either.”