Warcry

shook his head, and Lara opened her mouth as if to argue, but Marcus cut her off. “No. There’s a good-size deer out there, and I’ve a mind to roast it in coals this night. We will stay here and eat well. Tomorrow is soon enough, Warprize.”
    “Those that travel with us might appreciate the rest,” Keir rumbled. “Given the pace you are setting, Lara.”
    Lara rolled her eyes, then put her hand on her belly. “You’re assuming your child will allow me to sleep, Keir of the Cat.”
    Keir lowered his head to hers, and whispered in her ear. Lara blushed, then patted the bed. “I do seem to rest easier with you beside me, my Warlord.”
    Keir straightened and started to remove his swords. “You’ll see to the camp, Marcus?”
    “Aye,” Marcus said.
    Lara sighed as she shifted over, making room for Keir to spoon up behind her. “You could ride ahead, Heath. You really don’t have to wait for us to make our formal entrance into the city.”
    Heath shook his head. “No thanks, Your Majesty. Better that both my parents are caught up in the excitement of your arrival before they see their wandering boy.”
    Lara gave him one of her looks, and Heath knew that she wasn’t done with this conversation. Thankfully, she yawned again, so Heath gave her a grin, and turned to follow Marcus from the tent.
    Rafe and Prest were outside, taking up their posts.
    Marcus was already gathering the others, announcing that they were stopping for the night. Amyu was kneeling nearby, digging out a fire pit. Heath headed in that direction, watching out of the corner of his eye for Atira.
    Amyu regarded him with steady eyes as he approached. Heath gave her a smile, but Amyu did not return it. She was a quiet one, that was for sure. She kept herself apart and away from the others. Lara had explained her circumstances, but Heath wasn’t sure that he understood. She was no child.
    “We’ll need more wood.” Atira looked at Marcus, who nodded in agreement.
    “You and Heath will go. He will take that tool of his—”
    Atira’s face went bright red in an instant.
    “Not that tool.” Marcus rolled his one eye. “Get your head out of your tent. He will take his ‘axe.’ ”
    “My other tool will come as well,” Heath said. “I’m attached to it.”
    The other warriors broke out in laughter. Atira stiffened, throwing a glare at Heath, and opened her mouth to protest.
    “The Xyian will not get lost,” Marcus cut her off with a glare. “And you can get your arguing done out there, away from Herself. Take some bells. You can be as loud as you wish without disturbing her or us. Regardless of which tool gets used.”
    The other warriors stifled their laughter as Atira glared, then stomped off.
    “Be certain you remember to bring back wood. At least an armful,” Marcus called after her. “Make sure it’s dry, too.”
    Heath followed after Atira, not bothering to cover his grin.

CHAPTER 3
     
    HEATH STOPPED TO PULL HIS AXE FROM HIS SADDLEBAGS, which allowed Atira to slip into the shade of the forest for a moment to try and release her anger.
    Here, the trees stood tall, concealing the sky with their bright green leaves. Without the sun, the air here was cooler. Heavier, somehow.
    Atira shivered.
    She was a warrior of the Plains, of the wide-open grasses. Yes, they had alders growing by the waters that reached the height of a warrior and a bit beyond—but nothing that grew as tall as these trees, towering over her head, blocking out all light and sound. Atira felt hemmed in by the trees, their stout trunks blocking her sight, and the underbrush hampered her movement.
    How was a warrior to see, to know what was coming, to see what was behind? She shivered again and took a step back before she caught herself.
    “Ready, milady?”
    Heath’s voice startled her, and she jumped slightly as he came to stand next to her.
    His blue eyes were warm and understanding, which just angered her even more.
    “I am not your lady,” she bit the words off. “That is a—”
    “I know, I know,” Heath said as he walked past her. “It is a Xyian way that is of the city and therefore foul and evil.” He turned his head, looking around. “Nothing good here. We need to go farther in.”
    “There is wood here,” Atira said, picking up some dried branches.
    “Small sticks aren’t going to cook a meal,” Heath said. “If it bothers you, go back and look for dried dung.”
    “There’s none,” Atira said glumly.
    “What, not