Fae everywhere.
They looked mostly human with pointed ears, but I knew what lurked beneath the surface.
I stumbled away from the door, my chest tightening as my vision tunneled. I couldn’t breathe.
Swords clashed in the distance, mixing with the shouts of men and horses huffing. The sounds filled the tent, just as they had the healers’ tents, and flashbacks of the war bombarded me.
All I could see was blood.
Death.
Fear consumed me as I retreated into the tent, closing in on myself, and my back hit the wall. Sliding down the tarp, I hit the ground and curled into a tight ball, putting my head between my knees in an attempt to slow my breathing.
Breathe.
I forced my eyes open, looking for anything to ground me, anything calmer than I was. The bed. It was here. I was here. Not there.
Breathe.
The yellow haze pouring through the door flaps. The sunrise promised light and warmth. It was here and I was here with it. Not there.
Breathe.
I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of damp earth. It pulled me back down, returning me to the ground. To the present. I slid my hands out beside me, feeling the cool dirt as I laid my head back on the tarp.
I closed my eyes, willing my heart to settle some. Sweat rolled down my forehead and I wiped it away with my hand, taking another deep breath.
My eyes snapped back open as the door flap opened, and my stranger walked in.
I silently watched as he grabbed everything out of the tent—the blanket, the bed pieces, the lantern. He was dressed in black leather trousers and a black, flowing tunic with the buttons opened at the sternum, revealing sun-kissed skin over lean chest muscles. His wings were tucked at his back with the tips lightly dragging along the floor.
In the morning light, they weren’t actually black, but a deep wine red.
His black waves were tied back into a knot at the base of his neck with loose tendrils falling around his face and a stubble had grown along his jaw. As he bent over, I noticed the scar again. It was thick and jagged, starting at his ear and disappearing underneath his shirt. That wound should have been fatal.
He glanced over at me and his eyes were redder than they were before. Not brown at all, but a dark maroon red that reminded me of the darkest roses and matched his wings.
His gaze dropped, noting my position.
“Good morning,” he said quickly, returning to his work. “Get a move on. We are leaving in five.”
He walked out of the tent, carrying all of the supplies. Before I had the chance to stand, another soldier walked in and I froze, eyeing him warily.
He looked seemingly human-like, tall with pale, sharp features, pointed ears, and hair so blond, it was almost white. His eyes were an icy blue, although his gaze was warm and empathetic as he looked at me.
“Hello, Ara, my name is Doran,” he said as he stepped closer, crouching down to my eye level. “We have your horse ready for you just outside if you’re ready.”
He paused, slowly extending a hand out to me, and I stared at it for a moment before reluctantly placing my hand in his. He smiled, pulling me to my feet.
He led me to the door. As he held the flap open, my pulse skyrocketed again and I hesitated.
“It’s alright, just stay close to me. No one will hurt you,” he said, dipping his chin, and I almost wanted to believe him.
He stepped from the tent and I followed after him, stifling the fear from showing on my face. My nerves were frayed as we waded through seas of men, and I slowly realized just how many Fae surrounded me.
Focusing only on Doran’s back as we continued, he led us to a gray-dappled horse with a black saddle lined with fleece. He turned as if to help me up, but I glided past him, disregarding his outstretched hand. Placing one foot in the stirrup and gripping the horn, I hoisted myself up and steadied myself.
Giving an impressed smile, he nodded and turned to leave.