He inhales deeply then holds it. The gun is rock steady despite how long and unwieldy it is. His finger squeezes and the firing of the weapon causes a resounding crack that splits the air. The sound hits the nearby rocks and bounces back even as one of the goats gives a sharp bleat then falls to the ground with a crashing thud. The sounds of its heart and breath stop, and as they do I have that weird sensation that happens when you miss a step you know is there. A weird dropping in my guts and a disorientation in my head.
“Oh,” I gasp without meaning to.
The second goat disappears over the ridge. Rob rises to his feet, shoulders his gun, and strides towards his kill. I’ve never experienced anything like this. I don’t bother trying to move because I’m not sure I can. I close my eyes and focus on my own breathing. I don’t hear or sense or whatever the other goat any longer. I’m back to being alone in my head as I usually am. As it passes, I feel steady on my feet again so I walk up the ridge and join Rob, who is already partway done field dressing his kill.
“This should ensure a good welcome for us,” he says as he pulls the guts out of the goat.
The goat’s innards lie hot and steaming on the bare rock in a spreading pool of blood. My stomach lurches and I turn away from the sight. I’ve seen slaughtering before but this time it bothers me a lot more than ever before.
Rob finishes his work and then slings the carcass over his shoulders, and we begin the arduous journey down the far side of the ridge. If I thought climbing it was hard, coming down is worse. We have to watch every step. There are patches of loose gravel that are like traps, ready to send you sliding down the cliff or cause you to break an ankle. Gravity pulls with an open invitation to speed up the trip down. Fortunately, it isn’t long before the incline lessens and then we’re back to traveling on relatively flat land.
“You look up to Duncan?” I ask, resuming my dropped conversation.
“Aye.”
I attempt more conversation but the most I get is grunts and one-word answers. It’s frustrating because he’s clearly angry or upset with me and I have no idea why.
“What are your thoughts on the old ways?” I ask, running out of things to talk about.
“Pssh,” he grunts.
“You don’t believe in them?”
He stops walking and turns to look at me for the first time since he killed the goat over his shoulders. He unhooks a skin of water from his belt, takes a drink, then offers it to me. I take the water and quench my thirst. Only after he puts the cork back in and hooks it on his belt does he speak.
“I don’t believe in them.”
“You’re a Christian?”
“We’re all Christian,” he says, then his eyes narrow. “Aren’t we? How did you heal me? When I said Fae you shut my mouth. Are you a Fae? Or Fae touched?”
“I’m not Fae,” I say.
“No, Quinn? Then what are you? What you did, I know how bad I was hurt. I should not be up and moving. I probably shouldn’t be breathing.” I purse my lips and nod. “Then what? How?”
“I’m not Fae. That’s all I can really say.”
“And that’s not an answer.”
Anger feels like a bubbling brew filling my head. I thought we were getting along. That he might even be a friend, but now he’s being accusing and a jerk. He glares but I’m not going to back down, and I meet his glare. At last, he rolls his eyes, turns, and walks away.
I can’t tell him the truth. I told Duncan and Alesoun but they’re the only two who know and even that was rough. Even if I did tell him the truth it would only confirm his suspicion that I’m a witch. Still, it hurts. It’s hard when you can’t tell anyone the truth.
The silence between us is uncomfortable. A million ways to break the ice come and go, but none of them look like they’ll have a chance of working. The sun is low on the horizon and the first shadows of dusk reach across the land.
“Are we close?” I ask.
The moment I speak his back tenses as if he’d forgotten I was behind him. He slows his stride but doesn’t stop.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you knew where we were going?”
“I did not say that.”
“You said there was a hunter’s camp on this side of the ridge.”
“Aye.”