Chapter 8
579 Words
The low, menacing growl echoed through the quiet forest, freezing me to the bone. My breath seized in my throat, and I clutched the pack's strap tightly.
"Jameson," I whispered, the words barely audible above the pounding of my heart.
He turned quickly, already gripping his knife handle. His expression changed from annoyance to sharp alertness.
"Don't move," he ordered.
A boar emerged, huge and bristling, its tusks gleaming like ivory blades. I swallowed hard, tasting fear.
"We're going to back away," Jameson said softly, his voice firm and calm.
The boar snorted, its feet thrusting into the ground, jerking its head from side to side. Jameson didn't flinch.
"Don't let it feel your fear," he added.
The beast sprang suddenly, and Jameson moved aside, narrowly missing its tusks. He shouted, "Run!"
But I couldn't run; I couldn't leave him. Instead, I grabbed a broken branch and threw it at the boar.
He snatched it out of the air, moving swiftly and precisely. With a quick rhythmic hit, he drove the branch at the boar and pushed it back.
The animal crashed into the side of a tree trunk, its fury evident. And charged again.
Jameson sidestepped, his knife singing through the air, drawing a line along its side. Blood sprayed onto the forest floor, and the creature wailed.
"Jameson, behind you!" I shouted.
He whirled around, dodging the tusks by inches and drove his knife deep into the animal's flank. The boar staggered, its movements slowing, and collapsed.
Afterward, everything was quiet. I stood there, my chest heaving, staring at the boar's body.
"Stung?" Jameson asked, breaking the silence.
I shook my head, my throat too tight for talking.
"That’s good," he said, turning to look at me with a dark expression.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
"What?" I cried, shivering with anger as the adrenaline subsided.
"You didn't listen to me when I told you to run," he said, his voice growing louder.
"You think I would leave you!" I answered loudly, giving him a sharp look.
"It was under control," he told me stubbornly.
"Like hell!" I screamed at him, my voice cracking.
He came nearer, his eyes flashing. "You're reckless, Avery. You have guts, I'll give you that. But out here, guts will only get you so far."
His words stung, not because they were harsh, but because they were true.
As we sat down by the fire, the dancing flames played across his face, softening his sharp features.
"You came out here, why?" I broke the silence.
He didn’t answer right away but stared into the fire, his expression unreadable.
"I had to come," he said at last.
"That isn’t an answer," I insisted.
He turned, his piercing blue eyes on me. "Sometimes the truth isn’t something you want to hear."
"Let me have it," I said, leaning forward.
He hesitated, and I could see his jaw tightening. "I can’t yet."
"Okay," I replied, leaning back. "But if you want to gain my trust, you'll have to start being open with me."
His gaze softened slightly, but he didn't speak. Instead, he turned back to the fire, leaving me with my thoughts.
As I lay down to sleep, his words came back to me. Sometimes, the truth is something that nobody wants to hear. What truth was he hiding? And when it came to light, would it destroy whatever fragile bond we were beginning to build?
- Writer
