[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
Phelan wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me closer. “But those of us who are still here—we’re lucky ones. We are. We’re lucky to have known each other, to have been together. Whatever time we’ve had is a gift.”
My heart gave a strange double-beat. “Are you sure you’re all right, Phelan?”
He gave me a wry smile and nodded. “As I ever am, leannan.”
I managed to smile back, nodding slightly. “Duly noted.”
Then I leaned into his embrace, taking what comfort I could. My son settled, going quiet inside. For a second, I closed my eyes and felt an overwhelming sense of peace.
Then I heard the drums in the distance.
Phelan must have felt me stiffen because he let go. His voice was strange. “You hear it, too.”
“Drums,” I whispered, opening my eyes. There was fear in his face as he stared at the trees of the ravine, his complexion suddenly ashen.
“Drums,” he confirmed. He nudged me gently. “Go back,” he said, his voice quiet. “Go back to the tents, tell them there’s something coming, and have someone rally the Hunt. Whatever felt wrong is about to get worse.”
“Story of our lives,” I said quietly, then swallowed hard. “What are you going to do?”
“Finish what you started out here,” he said, slowly crouching. “Tell Jac I’ll be there in a few minutes, that she should stay where she is.”
“Are you really going to be there in a few minutes?”
A bitter laugh answered my question. “I’ll at least try,” he said softly, then waved a hand. “Go, leannan. Go.”
“I don’t want to leave you out here.”
His lips barely moved as he spoke, his voice so quiet I had to strain to hear the words. “We’re the only ones who’ve heard them, I’m sure of it. Go, Marin. Go before they catch us completely unawares.”
A quiet curse escaped me. I turned and went.
