Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Jasher didn’t return to the fire, but hovered over me. “Are you sure you wish to continue to the city? I promise you, things will only get worse from here. The beastie isn’t the only predator roaming the woods.” He motioned to the roasting animal. “That is a beastie, in case it wasn’t clear.” Then he pointed to the sky. “There’s also the birds.”
Knew they were a problem! “They’ve left me alone so far.”
“Yes. So far. They prefer to strike while you are spiced with terror. First, they’ll pluck out your eyes. Then they’ll go for your tongue.”
I shuddered. “Keep calm. Got it.” I raised my chin. “If you hope to convince me to return to the Wests, too bad so sad. I’m sure I wish to continue to the city. Yes, please and thank you.” Nothing would stop me. “In case it’s not clear, I’m certain, confident, positive, definite, assured, and convinced.” Let there be no misunderstanding between us.
He revealed no reaction; he simply offered a stiff nod and said, “Supplies are at the riverbank. We leave in half an hour. Be ready.” Boots flinging flower petals, he returned to his spot, donned his armor without a shirt, then picked up the backpack and the end of the silver cord. He dragged the still sleeping bounty hunters toward the river.
“What are you going to do to them?” I called.
Reverting to his default setting of ice cold, he ignored me, entering the water. He swam the pair across, cutting through the current as easily as a knife through melting butter, all without being stabbed by the fish. He didn’t even miss a stroke when the hunters awoke and fought for freedom. Nope. Not Jasher. He subdued the pair with sublime skill and great ease, gliding on.
How was I supposed to deal with a machine like him? I should have taken self-defense lessons while I’d had the chance. A survival course. Something!
The trio disappeared within the foliage, entering Lawless Forest. Well, well. Jasher had willingly and without hesitation cursed himself to a violent death. Whether the information proved true or not, he believed it.
Did I? Because soon, I’d have to enter, too, to get home.
With the half hour countdown clock front and center in my mind, I devoured the juicy and yes, tasty meat, and drained half the canteen on my walk to a secluded spot to answer nature’s call. Those creepy, face-eating birds watched me, and I performed deep breathing exercises to remain calm. Nothing I could do about them for the time being.
At the riverbank, I discovered the ax man had left an assortment of jars. Things I recognized from bath time with the chorus babes. Soap. Scrub. Oil. Toothpaste. He just traveled around with such delicacies in his pack? What a pleasant surprise.
I washed my hands and face, and brushed my teeth and hair, then braided the mass again. Wishing I had a clean change of clothes, I cleaned up the site and carried the jars to camp.
Sunlight hit the scar on my palm, and I scowled. West’s brand. The raised tissue in the shape of OZ appeared translucent, revealing swirling pieces of glitter inside it, as if the whole thing flowed with a force all its own. I wanted it off immediately.
Maybe I should risk cutting out a large hank of my flesh. Yes, I was about to embark upon the most important journey of my life. Yes, strength mattered. But I had a protector desperate to collect his payment now.
“Let’s go,” the executioner said, startling a yelp out of me. He stalked into camp sans the bounty hunters. His wet hair stuck out in spikes. He stuffed the jars into the pack. Silent, never glancing in my direction, he marched off, leaving the fire roaring and the beastie roasting. An act of careless disregard or a gift for the next travelers?
“You cursed yourself,” I pointed out as I rushed to catch up with him. I’d wait to injure my hand. Get a feel for Jasher and our pace first.
He shrugged, unconcerned. “I was already cursed.”
Oookay. “And you are sure I’ll be cursed when I step past the trees?”
“The very second.” He paused. “Still certain, confident, positive, definite, assured, and convinced you want to do this?”
He’d memorized what I’d said. “Is there another way for me to get home?” Please, please, please!
“Not to my knowledge.”
My chin dipped. “Then I’m extra sure, certain, confident, positive, definite, assured, and convinced.”
We stopped at the water’s shore. He fisted and opened his hands. Evaluating the wisdom of our bargain?
I gave him space, letting him think, studying him. Beneath the massive axes crisscrossing his back, the muscles between his shoulders bunched. I tried not to stare at the tree trunk tattoo branching from his spine. Well, from every other vertebra, at least. The others were covered by pieces of metal that mimicked a backbone. A piece of armor or sewn into his body? I couldn’t tell. Severed heads dangled from the tree’s thorny limbs, each face screaming in torment.