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I spin around, ignoring the slash of pain in my back, to find an older man about Ryuu’s age, with dark blue eyes and a shaved head, looking at me with interest. A group of men and women move through the trees to surround me, all with weapons in their hands and more strapped across their dark clothing.
Their guarded eyes watch me as if anticipating a fight from me. Something they will get should they attack first. I tighten my grip on the hilt of my sword, ready for round three, when a rustle of branches draws my attention to it, soon revealing a distressed Jarek.
He rushes straight for me, not stopping until he has me enveloped in a tight hug.
The tight hold presses down on my wound, and I gasp as a bolt of pain shoots up my back. Jarek jolts away from me as if burnt and glances down at his hands and the slash of blood across them.
“You’re injured,” he accuses me as his face pales.
“I’m fine,” I tell him and roll my shoulders as I try to eliminate some of the sharp pain now making itself known as the rush of adrenaline leaves me.
“But—”
“How is the woman?” I ask him, hoping to distract him.
But the expression on his face tells me this conversation is far from over.
“She’s fine. A little frightened but happy to be alive, thanks to you. What are you doing out here?”
I glance around at the men and women and relax a little when I see that their weapons are no longer in hand but strapped at their sides or back.
I frown as they glance over at Jarek as if waiting on something from him, and I find myself looking back at one of my oldest friends in a new light.
It is not hard to deduce who these men and women are. There is no true leader among them, although they give a small look of admiration to the man who spoke to me first. Their appearance is haggard, with dark, mismatched old clothing, and there is a hard, calculating look in every pair of eyes.
They’re rebels. And from the concealed glances they’re attempting to give Jarek, they know him. More than I would like.
“It seems you also have some explaining to do,” I tell him with a raised brow, trying to invoke one of my mother’s looks.
Jarek winces and the guilt seeps into his face, shadowing the worry he had for me a moment ago.
“I know. I’ll tell you everything. I promise,” he says with nothing but truth in his eyes.
“Come. Let’s get out of here before the guards show up,” a gruff voice sounds from behind me.
I turn to find a man with short, tight brown hair and a scar that runs down the left side of his entire cheek. His dark brown eyes stare at me, waiting for a reply. Eyes that have far too much knowing in them.
“This is Nikos. He is… a friend.” Jarek dips his head to Nikos, sharing a look with him before he pulls me along with them as they move out.
I keep my eyes on the men and women around me as we move through the forest, most of them skittish, their eyes darting around them every couple of minutes. Jarek takes off his coat and drapes it across my back, covering my wound from the rain, which has lightened to a small haze.
“I’m fine, really,” I tell him, more worried about the mess he seems to have gotten himself into.
“You’re bleeding,” he hisses, with a flash of anger in his eyes.
“It is a small flesh wound and will heal in no time.” I keep an eye on the rebels as we pass through the forest. Although the wound is painful, it is not my biggest concern right now.
He opens his mouth, most likely to lecture me on my foolishness, but stops short, thinking better of it. “They have a healer. He will see to it.”
“Jarek—” I start, more interested in knowing what his involvement with the rebels is than dealing with my injured back. But after knowing me for so long, he already knows what I am about to ask and cuts me off with a glance that’s full of guilt.
“Iknow, Ren. Let’s just get you fixed up and I’ll tell you everything.”
Pushing down my impatience for now, I stay close to him as we move through the forest silently before making our way toward the end of the mountains on the opposite side of the Sidus town.
No one comes to this side. It’s too far out and the terrain is too barren, the sharp, jagged cliffs and stone too harsh. And when the bad weather comes, the jagged rocky mountains are too open to protect against the treacherous rain and storms. So it makes no sense why the rebels are leading us toward it.
I frown at Jarek, the question on the tip of my tongue, but his eyes ask me to try and trust him, and so I do.
