Page 94 of Inextricably Tied

A shudder darts through Agony. She’s right; it’s the same dream as before, but the details are clearer. It’s colder than the Timber compound, dead leaves already scattered on the ground, frogs croaking in the woods around them.

It’s real.

Agony lingers behind Harbinger, breathing against her ear until the tension loosens from her shoulders. She reaches toward the claw marks on the trees, fingers shaking. Agony laces shadows between them, and they touch down against the bark.

“…nothing. I still can’t feel anything.”

But the other trees are still gouged with marks, a jagged trail leading deeper into the darkness.

I wish Flint were here.

Agony hears her thought and squeezes her bare hand.

He’s close. I’m here. You’re safe.

Her breath is so loud. Her fingers tighten against Agony before she lifts her foot and takes one step forward.

They move through the brush, stepping over a fallen tree, pushing back branches as Harbinger’s boots crunch over acorns. Snow lingers under the layered canopy of evergreens, bushes and saplings and mighty trunks towering toward the sky. Soil gives under their feet. Not frozen. Not compact. A woodpecker jabs into a tree above them until the sound is drowned out by a blue jay chased by a squirrel.

A strange smell lingers in the air. Dust kicks up where they step. Agony peers through the shadows cast by the trees until he spots a patch of fading light ahead.

There.

Twilight paints through the gap in the tree cover. The evening grows dark around them, but the clearing they move toward swallows up any remaining light. It’s impossibly black, ground covered in darkness. Harbinger kneels at its edge, pressing her fingers to the dirt. They come away darker.

“It’s burnt.” She rubs her fingers together. The dirt drifts away, ash in the wind. Agony remembers that smell, wafting off of Reid’s house in plumes.

“Phoenix fire.”

Someone laughs in the forest. A cruel howl back in the direction they came, followed by a shriek that makes Harbinger grip Agony’s wrist.

“Is that him?”

“I don’t know.” Agony is dipped in molasses, as if any swift motion will give them away.

Harbinger’s voice is tight from the cold air in her chest. “He’s not real, is he?”

“No,” Agony answers immediately. But then, he stops. “I’m not sure.”

It’s a dream. It should be fake, manufactured, but Agony’s real. Able to speak. To touch.

To harm.

His grip tightens on Harbinger’s hand. “We need to leave.”

Her heels dig into the earth. “But what if we can find more? What if we follow him, find a sign post, something?”

“Harbin.” Agony grips both her hands in his. “I promised.”

I won’t let anything happen to you.

They move away from the path. Mounds of leaves rustle as they tramp deeper into the forest. Behind a pair of entwined trees, Agony rests his head against the trunk. “Fuck, I can’t move you in here.” His shadows try to extend, to pull Harbinger inside, but he slips over her body like a smoke circle.

A branch snaps behind them. Footsteps thud along the trail: rhythmic, like a heartbeat, weighed down.

Carrying something.

Harbinger sucks in a breath.