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WE DIDN’T GET FAR before a noise to our right pulled our attention. A large bull moose stood taller than Reyfyre, with antlers that looked like the ends could spear us through. Its nose flared just before it lowered its head and charged.
Reyfyre grabbed my hand and yanked me forward as he sprinted away. I kept up with him as we awkwardly lumbered away from the angry moose. A quick glance over my shoulder sent shock waves through my form, and I pushed faster, this time pulling Reyfyre with me.
The moose was closing in fast. Plumes of smoke came out its nose, frosting the air with its exertion, and its eyes were as wild as any enemy I’ve ever faced.
We zigzagged this way and that and couldn’t seem to lose the damn thing. If we stopped to unsheathe our weapons, it would trample us before we got a shot off.
My chest constricted with my own panting breaths. Reyfyre seemed just as frazzled as I felt and running in snowshoes was not an easy task.
All of a sudden, Reyfyre wrapped his arm around my waist and swerved off the path, diving behind a group of trees at the last second. We skidded to a stop, using the trees as a buffer. The moose collided with the thick pines, shaking the snow off the branches and onto us. But the tree trunks held.
The moose huffed and banged the trees again a few times before realizing it was a futile effort. It walked away, shaking its head as if arguing with itself. The visual was funny, but my heart was still lodged in my throat, cutting off my ability to laugh.
“I think we’ll just camp here, if you don’t mind.” Reyfyre leaned his back against the thick trunks and closed his eyes. His breath still plumed white with each heavy exhale.
I glanced at the space in the little alcove he had thrown us in. It wasn’t bad: the ground was now covered with the dislodged snow, but it wasn’t deep like the surrounding areas. And best of all, the trees seemed to shelter us from the wind.
“We’ve slept in worse places,” I said, and his eyes opened. The blue pierced through me like buckshot.
“Besides, I am starving,” he added as he unclipped his backpack.
My stomach echoed his sentiment. We hadn’t bothered to stop and eat at all while we were on the snow machine.
“Gather some wood, and I’ll get us situated here and we’ll have some real food today instead of jerky.”
With our backpacks against the trees and a perimeter of bushes on the back side of us, the space for a fire was limited, but that didn’t seem to discourage Reyfyre. When I returned, he had a small ring of rocks that he had filled with small branches. He had a few broken logs and thicker branches blocking us into this small space. I added the wood I was able to gather to his makeshift barrier.
He had a couple of pots out, along with a few canned goods ready to be cooked on open flame once he got our fire started. He glanced at the kindling and then at me.
“Do you want to try to spell the wood to burn?” He raised an eyebrow.
“You want me to use magic?” The few spells he had taught me at the cabin had been hard to master, but I could light a fire. That was the first spell he had taught me and one of the few I was fairly good at. I mean, the evenings got chilly and sometimes Reyfyre was out hunting and with no matches around, it had become a necessity for me.
“Your signature is different, and it could throw them off our trail. Besides, it is a spell and not inherent magic.” He glanced at the sticks and waved for me to continue.
I knelt right outside the ring of rocks, faced my palms toward the wood, and closed my eyes before I spoke the incantation Reyfyre had taught me. I visualized a spark and the tinder smoking before it caught fire.
My nose tickled, and I opened my eyes to smoldering wood. I repeated the incantation and the sticks caught fire. Heat drifted to my hands, and I pulled them away.
“Good job.” Reyfyre took the space next to me. He held the pots over the flickering fire. “Add some more of the kindling.” He nodded toward the pile next to me.
I grabbed some of the thicker pieces of wood, along with a variety of twigs, and added them to the growing flames. He held the pans over the heat and the scent of beef stew rolled from each pot. He swirled each as if stirring and when they started the low roll of a boil, he set them down near our rolled-out sleeping bag and settled himself on one side. When I moved to the other side, he handed me a spoon and then dug into his hearty stew without hesitation.
We didn’t talk while we both basically inhaled the contents of the pots.
Reyfyre exhaled and set his dish down on the ground before leaning back against the tree. “I could eat a dozen more of those,” he muttered under his breath.
I ran my finger along the inside of the pot, getting the last of the remnants out. Then I licked every last drop off. I agreed with Reyfyre—I could eat so much more than just one can of this delicious stew. But then we’d have no food left and he’d probably starve if the lack of wildlife in the area was any indication. We hadn’t even seen a rabbit or squirrel run across our path.
And sneaking up on a moose was next to impossible if you didn’t know where to find them to begin with.
I plunked my pot next to his and dumped some snow into each to try to scrub them out. Just like back at the cottage, if he cooked, I cleaned. However, it was more difficult to clean with only snow at my disposal. Still, I got most of the leftover gunk off the pots and grabbed a couple of leaves off the bushes surrounding us to wipe them down.
“What are you doing?” Reyfyre asked.
“Cleaning the pots.” I turned and handed him the relatively spotless pots with a smile.
He grunted and inspected the cleaning job I did. “Great job,” he said after a few minutes. “But you don’t need to do that. Our bags are charmed, and have similar wards that the cottage had. Which is why we were able to pack so much in them and have them not weigh more than both of us combined.” Dimples appeared in his cheeks.
“Things still need cleaning,” I said.
“It’s self-cleaning.”
I blinked at him. “Oh. So, the leftover food wouldn’t get on everything?”
“Nope.” He stowed the pots and spoons away before he built the fire up as high as he dared. “Get some rest. We still have many days of walking ahead of us.” He slid into the bag, leaving room for me behind him, and closed his piercing eyes.
“What other tricks do you have in the bags?”
One eye opened and studied me for a brief moment. “No tricks, just magic protected by wards.”
Like that explained everything. I crawled into the bag behind him and laid back with a huff. He could be so frustrating, with his simple answers. I knew there had to be more than just the notion of magic at play and was irritated to not be kept in the loop. I wiped my face, and my mind wandered back to the cottage and Reyfyre stuffing the bags impossibly full. I should have known they were magical. I guess walking for days on end kind of dulled the senses.
But after all the crazy encounters we’d had, I guess my brain blocked out that particular fact. I wondered what else I’d conveniently forget if we ran across some real dangers.
That thought produced a rash of chills; dread at what we might still yet confront gripped my chest in a tight vise. Who knew what would be around the next bend.