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And then suddenly, his head snaps up, leaving me confused and bereft.
“Do you hear that?” he asks, his attention shifting from me to something outside.
“Huh?” I ask, still reeling from the pleasure.
“There was a noise outside.”
I listen for a moment, trying to shift my focus from the tingle between my legs to whatever has his attention, but all I hear is thunder and the pounding of the rain. What started as a simple shower has transformed into an angry, torrential downpour.
“No, I can’t hear anything over the storm,” I say.
Bradoc cocks his head, listening intently. “I’m certain I heard something. Shouting, perhaps?”
I frown. “At this hour?”
He moves away from me and to the door, which he opens carefully. Immediately, he utters a harsh, guttural word in his language; I don’t have to be fluent to recognize it as a curse.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shuts the door and whirls toward me, moving fast. “A raid. The Galkaj getting their revenge, most likely. I didn’t expect them to retaliate so quickly.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “A raid? What do we do?”
Weapons line one wall of the cabin. He grabs both a sword and a bow, then snags a quiver of arrows from where they rest on the floor. “You stay here,” he orders, strapping on the sword. “I must protect the tribe.”
I nod. Every part of me wants to demand that he not leave me here, alone and unprotected while enemy trolls rampage the village. But I know he has higher priorities, a job to do.
He gives me a final look and then dashes out the door, bow already raised.
I’m not sure what to do while I wait, but one thing is certain. If enemies breach this cabin and I have to defend myself or run away, I can’t do it in this giant, heavy dress.
Moving as fast as I can, I yank it off and put my hiking boots and regular clothes back on. They’re dirty, smelly, and torn, but I have a lot more mobility.
I glance at the remaining weapons on the wall. They’re huge and heavy, nothing I could wield with any dexterity in a fight. There’s a knife, though, the one Bradoc used to cut the bread during dinner. It’s where he left it, drying near the basin where he washed the dishes. It will have to do.
What next?
The fire, I realize. I need to put it out. I don’t want to draw any attention to the cabin, and while smoke probably doesn’t show through the storm, I don’t want to take any chances.
I grab the soup bowls and fill them with the water left in the tub, then toss it into the fireplace. It takes a few rounds, but I finally knock the blaze down to a few glowing embers. Good enough.
I creep to the door and open it a crack, just enough to see what’s happening. Even through the tiny opening, I’m buffeted by the intense wind. The storm is wild, like the mountain version of a hurricane.
The gusts are blowing the rain sideways, where it hits my face like needles. Between the rain and the thunder, I can’t hear anything, but the continuous flashes of lightning illuminate a terrible scene.
It turns out Icansee smoke in this weather. Somehow, even with all the rain, several of the buildings in the village are smoldering where the Galkaj trolls tried to set them on fire. They must have had some kind of oil or accelerant to even get the flames going.
Large shapes move in the darkness, but I can’t make out who’s who, and then, over the cacophony of the storm, I hear a high-pitched scream.
My heart pounds in my throat. I hadn’t considered these trolls much of a threat, because Bradoc and his men raided them so successfully just a few days ago. But the element of surprise must have worked heavily in their favor, because I don’t think my team is winning this time.
As I watch, a huge male comes lumbering out of the darkness. I try to shut the door before he sees me, but I’m too slow. We make eye contact, and a grin spreads across his face, almost in slow motion.
He shifts direction, running right toward me, and I do the only thing I can: I throw open the door and sprint into the storm.
* * *
OAKLYN
