Page 135 of Starside

I spin to face him, perplexed, and he just laughs. “Learn this. Some of the most beautiful creatures in this world are the deadliest.”

I look over at Raker, but he’s not looking at the fireflies. He’s not looking at the stars.

He’s looking at me.

I stare back.

I can’t see his eyes, but I feel his notice, piercing me. Our gazes are like blades between us. Skimming. Dueling.

The hunter keeps talking. “There’s an elk, for example … we call it a florisfang. It has five rows of teeth, but you would never know it. It’s beautiful. It usually has flowers in its antlers, like a crown …”

Raker tilts his head just the slightest bit, a whisper of a motion I wish I couldn’t interpret, but from traveling together this long, I can.

I glare at him in response.

And there it is. That sound again, resembling a chuckle.

“… you wouldn’t believe how long their claws are. They’re retractable. So, you don’t know until it’s too late, I guess,” the hunter finishes. And I’m not sure if he’s talking about the elk or another animal entirely. “Anyway. Best to keep moving if you’re going to find that horse.”

“Horse?” I say, whipping around. “I saw one earlier. It … it disappeared into mist.”

He looks impressed. “I should keep you around a little longer,” he says. “You bring out the best of the forest.”

“And the worst,” Raker says as he brushes by my side. I glare at his back.

The hunter doesn’t seem to hear him, too lost in his own talking. “That’s exactly the creature we’re trying to draw out. A skyhorse. They’re known to run through these woods. They seem to like the feel of them.”

“Are there many types of horses?” I ask.

He nods. “Just as many as there are dragons. With just as many variations and specialties.” He shakes his head and huffs. “The types of horses I’ve seen … you wouldn’t believe.”

I have the sudden urge to know. To see. To learn. I stamp that ember out, because that’s not why I’m here. This is not my world.

Though, sometimes, the traitorous, selfish part of me wishes it was.

As we continue through the forest, a galaxy of fireflies threading through the trees, a second sky of stars, I think again, This world is beautiful.

24

The hunter manages to catch a creature called a hellice—about the size of me, covered in spikes, that rolls through woods, mowing down everything in its path.

“Lucky this one wasn’t in a pack,” he says, as he pulls out his arrow. “They’re menaces. They kill countless creatures on their way to their prey.”

“Which part of them is valuable?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I just figured you both were hungry. And their meat is always tender. I wouldn’t mind a bite.”

That’s how we end up sitting on the forest floor, the fireflies moving in glittering currents above.

The hunter gets a pile of logs together, then reaches into his pack. I expect him to produce a flint rock. Instead, he unveils a shard of brilliant orange and red. He uses his knife to slice off a small piece.

The moment he throws it onto the wood, it ignites.

Beside me, Raker makes an unimpressed sound, and the immortal notices. He must think the hunter lazy or weak for using magic instead of making the fire himself.

I, on the other hand, am very impressed. I stare at the luminous rock in his hands, lips parted, and the hunter grins and says, “I thought you’d like that. Want to hold it?”

I nod, and he throws the stone to me.