The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

her Pull as he held, examined, and cleaned her up. It wasn’t easy, and she thrashed against him with surprising strength for someone so slight. “I should not have returned the salve. You didn’t manage to slip it out of camp, I assume?”

She swore at him. “’Course I didn’t. Get off!” She pushed off Triumph, who snorted and took a few steps ahead, which left Slaíne to fall on her side.

Suppressing a laugh, Aidan held out his hand to help her up. “Come now,” he said as she ignored him, “I’m just trying to help.”

The glare on her face told Aidan she didn’t believe him. Slaíne gathered the opening of her blouse tightly about her neck and stumbled to her feet.

He gestured to the horse, his hands outstretched and his eyebrows raised. “Need help mou—”

The girl leapt astride Triumph with grace that didn’t fit her manners, and took the reins in her hands. “Anytime you’re ready, sir.”

The smirk faded from his face as good humor left him. One foot in a stirrup, he raised himself up into the saddle. Next to her, he mounted like a clumsy oaf, and that hurt his pride. “Hold on tight.” When the girl failed to grab him round the waist, he almost said something, but contented himself with wildly slapping the reins, and they flew off into the distance.

* * *

They rode off and on again into the evening, when the sun melted into the hill-capped horizon, and the waxing moon crested the burgeoning trees. Glowworms flittered like many lanterns in the gloom, and bats scurried about in the sky. Slaíne seemed to have fallen asleep. She was still. Too still. It was almost as though she was trying to lull Aidan into a false sense of security.

For her sake or his own, he kept quiet, pretending not to know what she was up to. Let her scheme. He waited and rode, expecting her to attempt an escape at any moment. She didn’t. Nor had the elves pursued them. Odd, that.

The great galleon in the sky continued to climb, and soon all was plunged into its dusky light. They could travel no farther that day, for the town was still nigh fifteen miles off. Triumph was growing weary and cantankerous – so was the horse’s master. “Girl, wake up,” he said, steering his steed off the road. “We need to make camp.”

To his surprise, she did not move but let out a great almighty snort and lollopped even further forward in the saddle, forcing Aidan to catch her before she could plummet to the ground.

He pinched her, eliciting a few choice words he thought unnecessary, and hoisted himself to the ground. “We’re making camp. On your feet.”

Slaíne shivered and tucked her arms tightly about her torso. “Yessir.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “Come on, we haven’t all day.”

“No, but we’ve all night, haven’t we?” Then, without waiting for Aidan to help her, Slaíne jumped from Triumph’s back, giving the beast a start.

Aidan waited for the sound of her feet hitting the ground. There was only silence. Odd one, she.

“See about collecting some tinder for a fire,” he said snappishly before he could stop himself. The way the girl glared at him was unnerving. For a moment, he thought she was going to tell him where he could shove his fire. But she turned and tread off into the woods, making nary a sound.

Satisfying himself that his one connection to information couldn’t run off without her Pull informing him, Aidan licked his right pointing finger and held it aloft. The air was still, and there were no clouds in sight. They should have a cold, clear night. Perhaps it was folly, lighting a fire that could easily draw the elves to them. Though, something told Aidan that if the four sisters had wanted to follow them, they would have caught up already.

He dragged some branches that were tolerably dry into a row, and went about Dismissing small sections away, thus separating the wood into logs. Once the logs had been consumed by the fire, he could Summon what he had Dismissed and use them in another blaze. He arranged them as he had done many times before, making a tepee which would shelter the tinder in the middle. He removed his flint and the stick of magnesium from the pouch he kept in Nothingness.

Soon there would be no light to be guided by as he struck the flint with his tools. He might slice right through a finger or worse. He needed that tinder. He needed it now.

Anxious, Aidan checked the Pulls around him and noted that the girl was less than five yards off. “Bring what you’ve gathered,” he said, trying to keep any ire out of his voice. Why was he so angry with her? There was no putting his finger on it. Maybe it had something to do with her attitude. That was most likely. He had saved her from those elves, and how did she repay him? By taking her blasted time gathering the essential starting ingredients for a fire.

Well, she might be having difficulties finding anything in the shadows, said the voice of fairness in the back of his mind.

He ignored it. “Girl, where are you?”

Her approach was much noisier than her departure – Crunch! Crash! Thud! Thunk! – followed by swearing, muffled by the back of her hand, which swiped at her mouth. When she stepped into the waning light, it was obvious what had taken her so long. She had enough dry grass to make several fires.

Aidan bit down on the corners of his mouth. Had she never made a fire before?

As if reading his expression, she snorted and handed him a fistful. “Some’s for your steed, of course.”

Oh. He hadn’t thought of Triumph. “Thank you.”

Soon, he had a large blaze crackling before him, and the warmth soaked into his bones, driving all ill humor out of his body. He Summoned his rations and divided them between the girl