Page 18 of The Iron Earl
Lachlan had deposited her that first night at the wagon, walking away without a word, his anger still simmering. Rupe had been the one to point out the boots to her. And Lachlan hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction in the last three days.
She had a hard time faulting him for it—she’d run away while he had been busy procuring her a pair of walking boots.
The screaming had ceased, leaving her with only the sound of leaves crunching under her feet. Evalyn’s steps slowed. Her eyes searched the darkness and she realized how quickly it got dark in the forest away from the camp. Damn. She still had the rabbit clutched tight in her hand. She’d run without thinking and her hand had stayed clamped on the animal. Now she’d have to carry it until she got back to camp or risk Rupe’s ire at tossing away a quarter of the stew.
A gargled scream cut into the air and she shifted her direction. She was close, close to the sound. Close to Rupe.
A light flickered through the brush. The torch burning along the ground fifty strides away.
She ran, weaving through trees.
Her feet skidded, sliding through dead leaves as she stopped just beside the torch on its side, sputtering to stay alive.
Her look went frantic, searching for Rupe.
She heard a growl a second before she spotted him. Propped back against a tree, blood cut across his cheek, his hands blocking in front of him.
Blocking what?
She searched the shadows, her eyes flying wide open before she squinted, disbelief taking a hold of her.
No. It couldn’t be. Impossible. Not here.
Another growl, low, almost a furious purr.
A shadow moving in darkness, a black jaguar took a step forward, its yellow eyes reflecting the light of the torch with the eerie glow of a demon. The huge cat looked to her, taking one step toward her, then reversing course and moving toward Rupe.
A demon cat that had cornered its prey—Rupe—and was stalking in for the kill.
Evalyn surged forward, jumping in front of Rupe before the hunter could pounce.
A meow—tiny but loud—left her lips.
The cat stopped in mid-stride.
She meowed again. Louder, more plaintive—a kitten searching for its mother.
The sleek black head of the panther tilted.
Her heart thundering in her ears, Evalyn stepped forward, slowly lifting her hand, palm up. She meowed again.
The panther took a step backward, its thick paw crunching leaves as it bared its teeth and it seethed out a low growl—a warning.
Evalyn meowed, shuffling another step forward. Another meow, and she lifted the dead rabbit she still clutched in her right hand.
The black cat took a tentative step forward, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the blood of the rabbit.
Evalyn meowed again, this time holding the sound as long as she could as she moved forward. Her open palm next to the jaguar, she extended her arm, her fingertips just brushing the slightest fur under the panther’s chin.
The cat didn’t move.
She meowed again and stretched the rabbit onto her palm.
For a second that lasted a hundred years, the cat stared at her with its yellow eyes.
Then it looked down, sniffing the blood of the rabbit.
With the gentlest of teeth, it bowed its head, taking the rabbit from her hand.