Shift (The Pandorma Adventures Book 1) (20 page)

Chapter 15

I lose track of days and hours as we continue hiking toward our destination. We begin a routine at night, depending on where we are. If we are in a forest or jungle or just a place cramped with vegetation, I’ll go out and hunt while he starts a fire—it turns out Ryan is very good at getting a fire started—then I’ll stand guard while he skins and guts the meal, since I can’t stomach that part. Then we’ll just sit there roasting it over the fire. We don’t talk as much if Shiver is asleep, we just let the fire crackle and nature rustle. I don’t mind. Being near him is enough—and he likes to sit pretty close to me.

We mostly talk in the daytime or under the starry nights—once we’ve eaten—until we fall asleep. I didn’t even know so much talking and good-natured bickering could even exist without running out of things to say.

Although we run across animals, both predator and prey, their numbers don’t seem as large as I would expect. We give every animal we come across a cautious, wide berth.

* * * *

“I think we should go that way,” Ryan says, pointing in the general direction of northeast. We’re in an apple orchard, disagreeing, while overripe apples drop unceremoniously around us, causing me to frequently cover my head if I feel one is going to hit it.

I shake my head. “We should go this way,” I say, pointing more west, “straight.” I’m pretty sure I’m right because my instincts are directing me that way.

“How do you know
that
way is straight?”

I’m about to say, “Because I do” but Ryan keeps talking. “I think we’d be turning. We’re not heading in a perfectly straight line so we should go that way.”

Why is Ryan so insistent we go that way? An apple plummets to the ground inches from my head. Up until now he’s let me lead, but now, apparently, Ryan wants some say in it. Ryan picks up an apple, rubs it on his shirt until it gleams then takes a bite.

“What if there are worms in that?”

Ryan takes another bite. “Extra protein.”

“Gross.” I turn away from him, looking back and forth between my direction and his. The sound of crunching interrupts my thoughts and makes me look behind us. A copper stallion and his small herd of females stand near the edge of the orchard, crunching on fallen apples. A colt, its coat a mix of copper and blond, watches me curiously.

I draw my eyes away from the horses and they come to rest on Ryan, who is carefully watching me.

“Shiver what do you think?”

She’s snuffling around in the grass but her head jerks up when I say her name. She sticks her nose in the air and sniffs dramatically. “I really have no idea where we are,” she admits.

“Ow,” I mutter as a bowl-sized apple hits my head. I rub the spot. That
hurt.
I want to move closer to Ryan since all the apples appear to be avoiding his head. Instead I go and sit at the base of a tree. Perhaps it’ll be even safer here. “Why that way?” I finally ask him.

Ryan comes and sits Indian style next to me, putting only inches between us. How is he always so comfortable being so close to me when I can barely touch him without my heart racing?

“Because I think we need to head northeast. Generally speaking.”

I don’t say anything. Ryan sighs.

“Why are you doubting me now?”

“I’m not. Why are you doubting me?”

“Don’t turn this around,” I mumble, crossing my ankles and leaning back on my arms, then frowning, uncertain. I thought I’d been leading, but had Ryan actually been directing me? Now that I think of it, it had been Ryan who’d chosen almost every invisible pathway we’d taken. I shake my head. Whoever had been leading before, it didn’t matter now.

I decide to change tactics. “Come on Ryan, you always get to pick.”

Ryan chuckles then lays on his back. Neatly catching a falling apple he polishes it, takes a bite then says, “Fine we’ll go your way.”

He doesn’t say it, but I can hear it just the same: if we get lost it will be my fault. I watch the horses. They keep a respectful distance, but stay within the confines of the apple orchard. They are gorgeous. Their coats are glossy, their manes and tails long and flowing. They’re also huge, easily twice as big as regular horses.
I wonder how fast they are.
I look back at Ryan. His arm is thrown over his eyes. I nudge him. “Let’s go.”

Ryan mumbles something unintelligible and I prod him again then stand. Reluctantly he follows. We head in the direction I had pointed.

* * * *

“I smell chocolate.” In front of us is a thick wall of growth, beside that, a long strip of grass melts into sandy shoreline.

“Of course you do. Come on, let’s walk on the beach.”

I’m going to object because that chocolate, wherever it may be, is demanding to be eaten, but Ryan is already walking away.
Catch up to Ryan or follow that smell?
I take a step in the direction of the chocolate. It feels like forever since I’ve eaten something sweet.

“Lissa!”

I turn back around. Ryan waves his hand in, “come on” before cupping his hands to his mouth and yelling, “Race you!” then he starts running. I let out a noise of exasperation. Ryan knows I won’t turn down a challenge. I smile to myself. He also knows that I don’t always play by the rules.
Cheetah.
Ryan yells something when I speed past him and Shiver squeals with excitement and tries to run faster. I run until my paws hit sand and the water is looming in front of me, then I slide to a stop.
Lissa.
“I win!” I exclaim and I jump into the air.

“No fair,” Ryan says when he’s caught up.

“No rules,” I tease then set off down the beach. We mostly walk in silence, me picking up numerous, exotic shells and examining them.
I let Shiver inspect them before putting them in the backpack. Ryan just walks by my side, encumbered by his own thoughts.

My eyes travel along the dunes and tussocks of grass everywhere. I spy something unusual and run toward it. I crouch at the edge of what once was a fire pit, a large one at that. Burnt rocks, sticks and embers are scattered within a perimeter of six feet, a few stretching further. The ground has been dug down about a foot and a half; new grass is growing over the previously charred earth.

Ryan ambles over and bends down beside me. “Trevor?” he asks uncertainly.

“No.” I finger one of the ashes. It crumbles.

“Then who?” Ryan asks.

Shiver fluffs out her fur. “Maybe it was dragons!”

I stand back up. “I don’t know. The scents of whatever or whoever did this are long gone. Covered over by hundreds of others,” I continue when Ryan looks like he’s about to ask why. Ryan begins kicking around rocks and debris like he’s looking for something. I just stare at the fire pit. This looks like it was done by people—not dragons. But who? For some reason I strongly doubt it was Xavier and Medusa, which means there must be other people on Pandorma besides the five of us. I wonder who. Ryan saying, “Let’s go,” breaks up my thinking.

“Kay,” I say reluctantly and follow him away.

A wall of jagged cliffs stands in front of us. The gray-brown stone cliffs overlap each other, columns and outcrops make it difficult to see properly, but from what I can make out, this should be easy to scale. The cliffs are crumbled and not steep, there are many small plateaus and caves and footholds. But the crags go very high up and Ryan says that we should wait until morning to climb so that we’re not climbing in the dark. We follow Ryan away from them. He finds a dip in the small woods bordering the beach and that’s where we stay for the night.

When I wake the next morning I am alone. I scramble up and out of the dip, then frantically look around. Ryan’s scent is stale. He hasn’t been here for a while. I quickly follow his fast-fading trail; panic building inside me, only to find him angrily throwing objects into the ocean, which is shimmering with daybreak light. Ryan mutters crossly as he picks up a shell and hurls it a good distance. Ryan kicks the sand. Shiver is watching from a distance.

When I stop by her she says, “He’s been at it for a while.” She tips her head. “I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing either. He’s upset though,” she says sadly. “Will you make him feel better?”

“I’ll try to,” I say then head over to him.

“Ryan?” I ask gently.

Ryan sighs, runs his hands through his hair, and then sits down heavily. Quietly I come to sit by his side. He doesn’t want me to speak; I can sense that, so I stay silent, very silent and watch. Ryan picks up handfuls of sand, sifting the dirt through his fingers, watching it fall. He picks up a tiny seashell and turns it over and over.

Finally, Ryan takes a deep breath and says, “We’re getting closer to their army—or whatever. That means we’re getting closer to danger. Everyone I lo—everyone that matters to me always gets hurt when I’m near them.” Ryan runs his fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath before looking out across the ocean.

I look away from Ryan and down the beach. The light has grown considerably stronger, there are no more shadows trying to combat the light. I turn my gaze back to Ryan. “I won’t get hurt,” I say softly.

Ryan makes a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat.

“Okay I will get hurt. Ryan,” I say. He continues looking at the ground so I take his chin and force him to look at me. “If I get hurt it’s
not
your fault. Believe me,” I add more firmly when doubt passes through his eyes. “You
can’t
carry us all on your back, wrapped in velvet pillows. We will get hurt; you will get hurt. That is life and it can’t be changed. Got it?”

A bemused smile curves Ryan’s lips. “Got it,” he repeats softly. I can tell he doesn’t accept it unquestionably, but that’s fine with me. After a few more minutes we stand and trace our steps back to the depression, where he retrieves his weapons. Then we go back to the cliffs.

Before I can ask Shiver if she needs any help, she hops onto a small ledge. Wiggling her haunches she pounces onto another one. I dig my fingers into a cleft and heave myself up. Ryan carefully spots me—though he doesn’t need to—a few feet below. I feel like recklessly jumping from outcrop to outcrop, the tingles of energy going up and down my body definitely don’t help. I’m so glad Trevor isn’t with us. He would’ve dared me and both of us would’ve ended up with broken necks. Maybe.

Ryan is suddenly by my side. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns, seeing the gleam in my eye.

“I won't,” I say defensively. I climb higher, little bits of rock and dirt crumbling beneath my fingers. I pull myself onto a small outcrop. There’s a larger shelf about four feet up. I bite my lip.

“Lissa,” Ryan cautions. I look at Ryan, who is several feet right of me, giving me an admonishing look. “Why don’t you just fly up so I don’t have to worry about you falling,” he says.

“I’d rather climb. It’s more fun,” I say.

“Even if Lis did fall she’d catch herself,” Shiver says.

“Thank you, Shiver.”

Ryan sighs. We scale the rock-cliff in quiet, the only sound is of the clatter of stones we’ve dislodged falling to the ground. Twice Ryan catches me before I can jump. Irritatingly he seems to have a knack for it just like Dad. I complain after the second time. “I know I can make it, you don’t have to worry,” I grumble.

“I worry,” Ryan mutters in return and I snort in amusement.

I soon fall deep into concentration because Ryan won't answer any questions beyond a single word and it leaves me to my own thoughts. I think Shiver is singing a little song to herself but I can’t make out the words because she’s panting.

Since I’m so out of tune with my surroundings I don’t even know a creature is stalking me until it’s jumped on me. I scream as I lose my footing and fall to a ledge below.

“Are you okay?” Ryan calls, fear in his voice.

I carefully stand and rub my shoulder and hip. Nothing feels broken and I say, “Yeah.”

“See, that’s exactly why I was telling you to be careful.”

“What?” I cry, incredulous. I search the area above, which is void of the thing that had jumped me.
Huh.
Had I just slipped and imagined something ramming into me? Or had a boulder hit me? But if one had, then why didn’t I hear it fall the rest of the way? Or why hadn’t it flattened me? I sigh then start to make up the ground I had lost. Something slithers slightly at the corner of my vision. I whip my head in that direction, but see nothing. “Ryan?”

Ryan grunts. “There’s something—” I don’t get to finish my sentence because an animal screeches and barrels into me. This time there is no ledge breaking my fall.
Eagle.
I right myself and swoop up and land on a rock. This time I can see the creature that attacked me. It has a body and head similar to a lion’s. Its legs are solid, short, and its thick tail ends in a spade. It has thick, sharp nails; its medium-sized wings look like bat wings and are shaded in a smoky gray. The creature hangs upside down on the rock face; its black eyes on me, its forked tongue flicking out then back in. I shrug off the backpack.
Mountain lion.
I spring at the creature. It flits to the side and I crash into stone.
Ouch.
I slide down onto a ledge. I realize there’s a hiss to the air and I look around. Roughly twenty of the creatures—all varying in shades of browns and grays—sit amongst the cliffs and rocks. Their wings are angrily raised and some possess spikes on their backs, which are raised as well. Their fur is short like a lion’s. One lets out a high-pitched snarl and they race at us.