Page 34 of Fang & Fury

Fern’s expression was unreadable.

Kayla’s brow furrowed.

And Ailsa’s face was strained in the firelight.

“What?” he greeted them. “Didn’t think I’d turn up?”

Fern cocked an eyebrow. “I had my doubts you’d follow instructions.”

Darach huffed, although the laugh caught painfully in his chest. Fuck. He felt like death warmed up.

Fern nodded toward the leather satchel just back from the fire. “There’s soap, drying sheets and fresh clothes for you … as promised.”

Clean clothes. Gods, how he’d missed them.

“My thanks,” he murmured. However, even speaking cost him. His throat felt raw and tight. Bathing was the last thing on his mind, for he could barely put one foot in front of the other.

The warmth of the cave seeped into his chilled bones. All he wanted was to wrap himself in a thick fur, swallow some cool ale, and stuff food down his throat. Then, he’d close his eyes for a little while and forget Craeg Aonaranach had ever existed.

The day had passed in a blur.

To be honest, he didn’t remember a lot of it. However, some flashes remained.

Screams, the tearing of flesh, the taste of blood and offal. The primal need to hunt. He’d been the one to shift, but once he had, the clag-doo had taken control.

And yet, Fern’s instructions had somehow remained.

Travel east until he found the waterfall: Eas na Beucaich. He was then to climb up toward the sheer rocks to the left of it and enter a hidden cave through a cleft in the rock. There had been a part of Darach that had worried he’d forget the plan he and Fern had made, and the place they were to meet.

Nonetheless, after a day wearing the beast’s skin, running through the forests, hunting and tracking, the clag-doo’s hold on him had gradually lessened.

It had sated its hunger.

It wanted to rest.

And as its hold weakened, he’d seized his chance and shifted back.

After that, he’d walked the rest of the way to the falls, naked in the rain.

“Bathing can wait till later,” he grunted, scooping up a fur, slinging it around himself, and approaching the fire. “If I don’t eat something right now, I can’t be held responsible for my behavior.” The clag-doo had hunted and gorged all day, but as soon as Darach had shifted back, he’d thrown up the contents of his stomach. He’d felt queasy for most of the afternoon, but now a ravenous hunger seized him.

Nodding, Fern unwrapped leather packages, revealing hard cheese, slightly wizened apples, and stale oatcakes. She’d packed her provisions a few days earlier, before she entered the fort and guised herself.

“I’m glad you made it, Darach,” Ailsa said then, speaking up for the first time. Her voice was husky, her eyes dark in the firelight.

Their gazes met, and his throat thickened. “It’s good to see you too.”

And he meant it. She was a sight indeed.

Their stare drew out, and Ailsa’s lips curved into a tired smile.

“Here.” Fern handed him some oatcakes and cheese. “It’s nothing special, but it’ll fill your belly.”

Darach accepted the food with a nod. He wolfed it down and took the apples she gave him, inhaling them too, washing everything down with gulps of ale.

Fern distributed food to the others too. Then, as they began to eat, he didn’t miss the way the three of them kept stealing glances at him. Likewise, he studied them too. Silence settled in the cave. They were all on edge this evening. Taking each other’s measure.

Darach sighed as he swallowed the last of his ale. Thank the Mother, he was out of that festering pit of a fort. He couldn’t believe they’d all survived the audacious plan that Fern had hatched, that they’d lived to reach this cave.