Page 138 of Dare
“Sweeting, everyone does.”
So did I. Constantly, I felt Jeryn’s eyes on me.
“Perish the thought of me encouraging you with that one,” the jester continued. “However, he’s not the same bastard we met in Autumn.” Intrigued, he arched an eyebrow. “You possess magic.”
A lump budded in my throat. I gestured between us to illustrate my words, then scripted, We all do.
Poet raised my knuckles and kissed them. “Make him grovel for a little longer. It’ll do the man good.” Lowering my hand, he smirked. “As for the rest: Let’s stir shit up, shall we?”
Before our kin left, we stood at the edge of the ocean and watched the moon blaze through the darkness. We would stand like this again someday, united with the rest of the clan. Briar’s ladies, her minstrel friend, and her mother.
Jeryn and I stared as Autumn’s ship cut through the sea. When the vessel dissolved into the horizon, all went silent. And we were alone again.
42
Jeryn
We gave each other a wide berth while harvesting flora that yielded a topical application for burns. Squatting beside the cluster of stems, I brooded in silence. In my periphery, Flare wrenched the same specimens by the roots and jammed them into her satchel.
Typically, I preferred routine. Presently, it unnerved the shit out of me.
It had been like this for days since the clan left. Uncertain. Unresolved. We had decided, and our paths would eventually diverge, yet the question of what happened until then remained.
The air shifted. We paused and slanted our heads as clouds piled overhead, replacing the meager lacings of blue sky that strained through the canopy. Out of nowhere, insects and avians scattered.
Flare and I followed suit, racing across the dirt and hunkering beneath a copse of ferns. An instant later, the firmament boomed, and the downpour began.
Thunder rain. Its impact assaulted the vegetation, striking with enough force to knock a person to the floor. Blows to the head could result in concussions. I’d suspected as much since our initial encounter with this deluge, back when Flare had exposed herself to every type of onslaught before I could stop her. Believing it to be part of the rainforest’s initiation—in accordance with Summer’s culture of answering nature’s will—she’d been determined to subject herself. With this particular tempest, she had dislocated her shoulder and cursed me to hell as I’d reset it.
As the torrent punched the ground in frustrated sheets, Flare’s elbow bumped into my waist. She did not have enough space.
I shifted, placing myself at the edge of our shelter, which provided her with ample room to hide. Partial exposure left me vulnerable, a lone droplet hammering against my knuckles. I hissed and shook out my wrist.
A belt of wind drove through the forest. The clouds were moving swiftly. Perhaps ten minutes of this and we could separate.
Flare’s body heat brushed my back. Depleted of patience, I counted. When I finished, the weather cleared.
On reflex, we checked on each other. Neither of us suffered from contusions other than the mark on my hand. That nuisance had already formed into a purple bruise.
Satisfied, we drifted apart. As the hours passed, I caught myself glancing over my shoulder. Flare’s legs kicked through the underbrush, her movements producing a swishing sound that matched the sway of her hips, the plants caressing her thighs like fingers.
Enough. For fuck’s sake.
I turned away, stalking farther from her. Memories of my cock lunging into Flare, fucking her upright in the ocean until cries poured from her mouth, lingered like the traces of a forbidden stimulant.
I crouched low, jammed samples into my bag, and flinched in surprise. A spindly tendril of green had snatched my wrist. Evidently, I’d wandered a considerable distance off course and ended up in the jungle, where these shrubs had grabbed me once before. While Flare and her fauna pack had played hide-and-seek, the vines had cinched harder each time I’d moved. That had been when I asked Flare to have dinner with me.
I rotated my wrist, exercising cautious motions that kept the plant’s grip from intensifying. At length, I disentangled myself from the stranglehold. Quite the formidable hazard, these shrubs’ method of defense, which required prudent maneuvering, to avoid getting stuck. Otherwise, this trap would be a danger to one’s circulation, among other potential consequences.
I studied the hedges, some of them matching my height and others surpassing it. What had Flare said during our early days? Look farther. Not closer. Although this rule did not always apply, things weren’t always as they seemed in this rainforest.
I stepped back and angled my head, imagining how she might view this convolution of foliage. From a distance, something about the pattern struck me. In other parts of this environment, chameleon flowers disguised themselves in plain sight like Flare’s map.
The afternoon light waned. My vision would soon be impaired.
I observed at length, noting a concealed break in the hedges. Raising my palms, I approached, expecting to feel the first stab of the wall. Instead, my hands bypassed the shrubs, their density an illusion.
Inching my way through, I stepped into a camouflaged passage. Withdrawing my knife, I progressed through the channel. As the minutes passed, the sound of boiling liquid amplified.