Thorne crouched in the narrow ravine, his breathing controlled but sharp as his mind raced. He could still feel the oppressive presence of the beasts nearby, pacing above them, and his body tensed at the unmistakable sensation of their hunger.
If Thorne had been uncertain before, now there was no doubt—the map etched into his mind acted as a protective ward, a mark that prevented the masked beasts from attacking him.
Just like with the serpent, the beasts had sensed him, but at the last moment, they'd backed off. He could feel it—a shift in their intent, a hesitation to confront him directly. But what puzzled him was why they still lingered, keeping their distance yet relentlessly circling as if something else drew them.
Then it hit him—the blood. The girl was bleeding, and the beasts could smell it. Damn it.
Even if his mark shielded him, it didn't extend to her. The beasts weren't tracking him; they were hunting her. The realization sank in, and his fear crept back. His spiritual senses could protect him, but they were meaningless if the scent of her blood lured the beasts ever closer. The ward wouldn't extend its protection to her.
They had to keep moving, and fast.
He turned to her, her face pale and slick with sweat as she clutched her bleeding stump. The beasts would find them soon enough if he didn't do something. Thorne quickly shifted his senses outward, scanning their surroundings for anything that could help.
"We're not safe yet," he whispered, the urgency in his voice sharper now. The woman, still catching her breath, looked up at him with wide, exhausted eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asked, though the fear in her tone already showed she suspected the answer.
"They can smell your blood. It won't be long before they figure out where we are."
Her face paled further, and she tried to tighten her grip around her wounded arm, but her strength was waning fast. Thorne glanced around, his mind racing for a solution. How do we mask the scent?
His senses flared as he took in the humid earth, the thick canopy overhead, and the faint trickle of water nearby.
Water—that might work. He turned back to the woman, his jaw tight.
"I need to stop your bleeding," he said urgently, "and we need to move. There's a stream nearby. The water will help mask your scent."
She looked at him, a mix of doubt and desperation flickering in her eyes.
"How... how do you even know that?" she whispered, still in shock.
"Trust me," Thorne said, his voice firm. He reached into his pouch, pulling out a few cloth strips he had saved, then tore them with swift, precise movements.
"This might hurt, but we don't have time to be gentle."
Before she could respond, Thorne grabbed a handful of wet dirt from the ground, mixed it with dried leaves, and pressed it against her wound. She gasped, the pain evident in her expression, but she bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry out.
He wrapped the cloth around the muddy poultice, tying it off tightly to slow the bleeding. The makeshift dressing wouldn't hold for long, but it would buy them time.
"Come on," he urged, standing up and pulling her to her feet. She staggered slightly, still weak, but managed to stand.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"There's a stream just ahead," Thorne replied, already moving. "The water will help wash away the scent of blood. It's our only chance."
They moved quickly, though the girl stumbled several times, her exhaustion dragging her down. Thorne kept a firm grip on her, his spiritual senses stretched as far as they would go, monitoring the beasts' every movement. The oppressive feeling of their presence was closer now—too close.
The growls of the beasts grew louder in the distance, followed by the crackling of branches as they tore through the underbrush. Thorne's heart raced, but he forced himself to remain calm, guiding the girl toward the faint sound of running water.
We just need a little more time.
Finally, they reached the stream—a shallow, winding flow of water that cut through the forest floor. Thorne knelt down quickly, pulling her with him.
"Get in," he whispered, splashing the cool water over her bleeding arm and shoulders. "Stay low."
The girl nodded, wincing as the water made contact with her wound, but she understood. They crouched together in the stream, letting the water flow over their bodies, the earthy scent of wet soil and moss mixing with the scent of blood. Thorne's senses flared, locking onto the spiritual signatures of the beasts. They were close, sniffing the air just on the other side of the ravine.
Time seemed to freeze as the beasts approached, their hulking forms visible through the gaps in the trees. Thorne held his breath, pressing the girl lower into the water, their bodies almost submerged. His spiritual senses expanded, focusing on the beasts' intent. They were sniffing, growling, searching—confused by the mingling scents of blood and water.
For a moment, one of the beasts stopped, turning its masked face directly toward their hiding spot. Thorne's heart thundered in his chest. His hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, ready to fight if they were discovered.
But the beast hesitated, sniffing the air again, its head twitching in uncertainty.
The water... it was working. The stream had diluted the scent just enough to throw them off.
After what felt like an eternity, the beasts began to move away, their growls growing fainter as they retreated into the depths of the forest. Thorne exhaled a slow, shaky breath of bubble, feeling the tension release from his body.
The girl, still trembling from pain and fear, looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Raising their heads above the water level.
"We... we made it?"
Thorne nodded, though his expression remained grim. "For now."
She sagged against the rocks, her exhaustion catching up with her.
"I can't believe... you saved me. I thought for sure..." Her voice trailed off, still in shock.
"I wasn't going to leave you to die," Thorne said simply, his tone calm but distant. He stood up, pulling her gently out of the stream.
"But we're not safe yet. We need to find shelter," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Can you walk?"
The girl hesitated but then nodded weakly.