Siren Song (The Fated #1)

34 | Ambushed

"Kain... Kain... up... Get up!"

The soft whisper, accompanied by a forceful shake of his arm jolted Kain awake. His heart raced, instincts prompting his eyes to search for the source of the urgency in Rhode's voice.

Dim embers were all that was left of the campfire that'd been near-roaring when he'd drifted off. Moonlight cast a soft glow on their surroundings, illuminating their empty campsite. A glance towards the stars told him dawn was still a few hours off. Whatever was happening, Kain still had the night on his side.

The moment his gaze met Rhode's, she put a finger to her lips and moved onto Melitta. Taking the hint, he quietly untangled himself from his bedding and shifted to his feet, grabbing his sword belt from the ground beside him.

Beyond Rhode's whispers, the night was silent. No buzz of insects, or chirps of birds. Was that what caught Rhode's attention?

Once she had all three of them gathered, Rhode quietly pulled them off towards the woods to the left of the main road. Kain held the questions on his tongue, clinging to frayed patience as she walked along the undergrowth, then pointed to four paw-prints in the soft earth. Each print was a good seven inches in length and while Kain was no expert in wild animals, the size sent a shiver down his spine.

'Wolf?' he mouthed to Rhode, uncertain about their need for silence. Any smart wolf would avoid the road. Too many travelers would take a shot at them out of fear, or even just for fun. Talking about the creature wouldn't summon it.

His confusion only deepened when Rhode shook her head. The emotion was accompanied by a cold knot in the pit of his stomach as she grabbed his hand and pressed it into the still-warm track. Despite no sign of the beast, the heat nearly scalded his palm. His hand remained frozen in place even as Rhode released him. He could be wrong, tracks weren't his forte, but, given their situation, that sort of print lended weight to a single conclusion.

A nightmare hound.

Like kottai, wild hounds traveled in packs. The large, sometimes multi-headed beasts would stalk travelers through forests, waiting for them to trip up, then devour them without hesitation. Most considered them to be nearly as intelligent as phoenixes, and loyal only to demons given their shared god. The only real way to identify their tracks from any other abnormally large, wolf-dog was the fiery heat that filled their entire being, turning the creature's irises into something resembling burning coals and scorching the earth as they walked.

Demons. Shit.

Was this a pack drawn to his curse, or was it the Votanna assassin using a pact-bound animal to track them? Should they ready for a fight against beasts, people, or both? Nightmare hounds were venomous if wild, while the majority of domesticated nightmares had either been bred or physically altered to be harmless. Even demons weren't willing to risk dying of a nightmare bite.

Gods. He tugged on his cap with his free hand, his opposing fingers curling into the heated earth. His gaze turned to the surrounding area as if it could provide the answers he needed. The single line of tracks disappeared a dozen feet into the treeline where the undergrowth grew too thick to see through. One hound. Did that mean his second guess was right? Or was the rest of the pack simply further into the woods than this?

Realizing the others might have an opinion on the matter, he turned his gaze back to their group. Melitta was studying the track with a furrow of her brow, her entire body taunt with some unidentifiable emotion. Rhode had drawn her bow, gaze focused on the woods. No doubt she was ready to shoot at the first sign of movement.

Dalphie stood a few feet back, eyes closed and head tilted towards the moon. A faint breeze drifted through the air, blowing her black locks away from her face, giving a stronger view of how the faint moonlight gave her face an ethereal glow. Daphie's bow hung loosely in front of her, the arc held with a hand on each end.