317: Crosshairs

Crosshairs

RETH2

Behryn had been right to take him to the market. Eating had helped his body, and spending time with his people had strengthened his resolve. Weary as he was, the smiles of the offspring, seeing the easing of worry lines on the elders when he reassured them, and joking with the youth had lifted his spirits as well as theirs. He'd spent so long connecting with the people after he'd eaten, they were still there when people began to arrive for the second serving, and he'd had a chance to speak with many more.

He resolved to make the effort to return to the market on any night that his duties allowed. It would remind him why he was doing this, and it would please Aymora too, who said he needed more than fruit and raisin cakes to replenish his blood and keep himself strong.

So, it was with a lighter heart that he and Behryn stepped onto the trail back to the cave, the guards near and close, but keeping enough space to allow them to move easily.

Reth drew in a deep breath as they stepped deeper into the forest. At Behryn's urging, he'd been working hard to keep a different routine every day, using different trails when he moved, and scheduling meetings and briefing at different times and places each day.

There had been many moments in the past few weeks where he had started to think it was all wasted effort. That the wolves were just going to sit back and let Reth come to them. But then the scouts would disturb another fist of wolves, clearly watching the City, or they'd find evidence of temporary dens that had been recently used.

Every time he began to relax, something would occur, and he'd remember the tightrope they walked. But this constant waiting, the inescapable tension of knowing that the enemy was at the door, but had not knocked yet, was wearing thin.

Perhaps that was Lerrin's strategy. To get him to force confrontation out of pure desire to see it started.

He huffed and let himself scan the forest. Their guards were all only feet away, but blending in and out of the trees on either side of the trail, spears and arrows drawn and ready for use.

Behryn trained his men well. Despite the lack of action these guards had seen—most of their days being spent standing outside doors or on the rooves of places Reth was meeting—they were all attentive, their bodies poised for action, and their weapons ready for use.

Reth almost smiled. The wolves were cunning, it was true. A formidable enemy. But he refused to believe they had either the discipline, or the drive, that Behryn's men showed.

"You have done well, friend," Reth said quietly, nodding at the forward guard who disappeared for a split second to check behind a large clump of underbrush that squatted alongside the trail. "Your men are a credit to you."

"To you, as well," Behryn murmured back. "They listen to me, but they serve diligently because of you and the example you set."

Reth wanted to roll his shoulders. He hadn't been a good example lately, he knew, consumed with his own pain and exhaustion. He was blessed that the men remembered the leader he had been before… before his mate was forced away from him.

A flash in the trees of the nearest archer station, the view of which was only caught at this particular bend in the trail, caught his eye. They'd sprinkled snipers and archers throughout the WildWood, but especially in the thickly wooded areas in the City itself, and around its perimeter.

Reth hated knowing that there were deadly men with deadly weapons peppered around his home. But he hated the idea of anyone dying at wolf hands, more.

For a breathless moment he remembered Elia's complaints about the constant guards and lack of privacy, lack of solitude they had caused her in those early months.

He'd been so focused on her safety, he hadn't appreciated what a stifling feeling it was to be under the eyes of many people every time she stepped out the door.

If he was able to find her in the dream tonight, he would tell her. His heart grieved that he couldn't swing her into his arms when he got back to the cave.

The guards stepped in closer as they reached the meadow in front of the cave and left the cover of the trees. There was a whistle, high in the canopy—another of the Archers giving the signal to the others about Reth's location—and it was instinct to look up for those he knew were positioned on the mountainside above the cave. The snipers were remarkably adept at keeping themselves out of sight. But he'd seen these males and females, been a part of the group that chose their positions, and he knew where to look.

Except, when he focused, the movement that flashed behind the scrubby trees on the ledge just twenty feet above the cave mouth, was several feet left of where he expected to see it.

Reth frowned. "Behryn, did you move the—"

"RETH! DOWN!"

His brother hit him in a bone-crunching tackle in the same moment the unmistakable twang of an archer's bowstring sang through the air.

It happened too fast for him to do anything but remember it later.

As Reth tumbled to the dirt, slamming into it with a grunt at the impact that shoved the air from his lungs, he felt a second blow, heard the arrow find its mark, felt the shudder of Behryn's entire body as it recoiled from the foreign invader.

And from the pain.

There were shouts and arrows flew in both directions between his guards, the archers in the trees, and the enemy snipers that had somehow made it to the mountainside above the cave.

Reth lay on the ground, stunned, his body trying to work, trying to suck in air, but all he could think—all he could scream—was that his best friend was sprawled over him, his limbs spread as wide as he was capable, to make himself as big as he was able, to cover as much of Reth as he could.

And… he wasn't moving.

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