Tahl should not have suggested it. He should have known that Bryar would be immune to his sarcasm, that she would latch onto the batshit premise beneath his teasing and treat it like an actual plan. He should have known she’d sway to her feet and stomp off into the woods, with him trailing reluctantly after her. He should have known that hunting down Tristan and his rebels would sound like an “adventure.” He should have fucking known.
Gods, he was a stupid bastard.
“This is a bad idea, Bryar,” He muttered for the hundredth time, his footsteps falling neatly behind hers, leaving only one set of tracks. Despite the midnight chill, he was sweating where the straps of his backpack sat on his shoulders, and everything else felt warm and clammy and chafed. It was a familiar level of discomfort, when he was hunting…but he wasn’t supposed to be hunting, he was supposed to be having a drink, and sitting on his ass, and watching the events of the tavern unfold like a badly-scripted comedy. Barring all of those things, he could have been curled in his bedroll, asleep.
But no, instead of any of those lovely things, he and Bryar were chasing phantom geese through an ever-changing wood. At least she’d sobered up over the past several hours.
They stopped only once by the side of a stream, so Tahl could refill the canteen. His sun-steaked eyes drifted over the looming trees warily – he’d spent his life in Shaman’s woods, but could not at all remember this particular stretch of forest. There had been whispers that the rebel King’s base was protected by magic, but Tahl had assumed that was just a rumor meant to romanticize their cause, give the whole thing a fairytale sparkle. Which, in retrospect, was just as stupid as his assumption that Bryar would come back to camp with him. Shaman was weird, and followed the rule that the strangest explanation was often the truth.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Tahl sighed as they continued on, then yelped when the branch she’d been holding mysteriously slipped her grip and whacked him across the mouth. He spat out leaves and scowled. “That better mean ‘yes, of course I know where I’m going, it’s just ahead.’ Or you can continue this stupid hike by yourself.”
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