Of Blood And Fire Ryan Cahill (nice books to read .txt) 📖

flowers streaked with crimson veins. There was an unpleasant aroma wafting into Calen’s nose that he couldn’t quite place.

“Well, it’s not the palace of Al’Nasla,” Rist remarked as he brushed a pile of stones away with his foot, “but it’s not that bad. Cleaner than my room – it even has flowers.” Rist reached up and plucked a purple flower from amidst the moss.

“Don’t touch that!” Dann roared. He smacked the flower straight out of Rist’s hand in a blur of motion.

“Why did you do that?” Rist cursed, caressing the now reddish mark on the back of his hand.

“That’s Purple Ember. If you had held it any longer, your hands would have felt like they were on fire,” Dann sniped. “Did you not read about it in those books of yours?”

Rist glared at the back of Dann’s head.

“You two are like children, I swear to the gods,” Calen laughed. “But seriously though, Dann’s right – don’t touch those flowers.”

Rist scrunched his upper lip and took a step away from the wall of the cave as he eyed the purple flowers askance.

Calen had to suppress a laugh as he looked at Rist. “Okay, Dann, can you hold the fort while Rist and I gather wood for the fire before the night sets in? I want to see if I can find any useful plants and herbs as well. They could come in handy.”

Dann was already lying down on the packed dirt, his head propped up against a rock. “Sounds like a plan to me, Calen. Consider the fort held.” He closed his eyes as he pulled his bow up to his chest and dragged his quiver to within arm’s reach.

Calen started to protest but surrendered to the reality that Dann probably still had a better chance of putting an arrow in a would-be attacker in that position than Calen did with his eyes open, standing up straight. As much of an idiot as he could be at times, it was like he was born with that bow in his hands.

Rist just shrugged at Calen and nodded towards the forest.

The juices from the rabbit tumbled down Calen’s chin as he sank his teeth into the leg, eager to get the meat off the bone and into his rumbling stomach. He used his sleeve to wipe away the brownish-yellow beads glistening from the firelight.

With a bit of luck, Rist had got the fire going just before the sun had set. Calen had never mastered the trick with a knife and a rock, not that it mattered as long as his belly was full.

“You know what, Dann? You’re a bit of an ass, but you sure know how to cook rabbit,” Rist said matter-of-factly as he picked the bone clean with his teeth. Calen never cared too much for rabbit meat. It was usually dry and tough, but he was not going to complain.

Dann let out a snort, sending pieces of half-chewed rabbit spraying across the fire, which drew a chorus of laughter from Rist and Calen.

“You okay there, Dann?” Calen laughed, coughing as he attempted to suppress the waves of laughter.

“Fuck off,” Dann choked, taking a deep breath inward to settle himself. When they were finished, Dann gathered all the bones and threw them into the river. “We don’t want any kats or wolfpines strolling in here, looking for the meat that used to sit on those bones.”

Calen felt sleep creep up on him. With his belly full and the fire pulsating heat throughout the small cave, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and shuffled down into the dirt. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but he found it incredible how a hot meal and a warm fire could make hard clay feel like a goose feather mattress.

He saw Dann and Rist’s eyes drooping as well. A bit of sleep was well deserved for the three of them.

Calen awoke to the sound of what he thought was someone rummaging through one of the bags. His eyes were stuck together with crusty flecks of sleep, which he rubbed away with the back of his hand.

“Dann?” he whispered, his voice still hushed with tiredness. His half-awake eyes saw a shape at the other side of the smouldering fire, near Rist’s bag. We must have all fallen asleep without putting out the fire.

A low rumbling sound, interrupted by the occasional muffled snort, came from whoever it was at the bags – or it could have been Dann snoring. Calen heaved himself upright; the fatigue from the day’s trek made it a greater task than it should have been. He rubbed his tired eyes again, pushing his fingers into the creases and dragging them down his face as if to pry open his lids and bring his vision back to normal.

“Rist, what are you doing?” Calen sighed. The embers of the fire provided little light, and darkness still covered the mouth of the cave, obscuring the forest from view. Calen’s mouth bunched up into a frown, frustrated by the lack of response. “Rist, what—”

Calen leapt to his feet, stumbling backward. The figure huddled over Rist’s bag turned its body sideways, allowing Calen to catch sight of the immense shadow that it cast across the wall of the cave. “Rist! Dann! Wake up! There’s a fucking bear!”

The blood drained from his face as he saw the hulking figure of the bear for the first time in the dying firelight. Its thick, blackish-brown fur was mottled with tacky dark patches of dirt – or blood. It was hard to tell. It had a dished face, with short roundish ears. Eyes as black as jet. Teeth of alabaster and claws that dwarfed Calen’s fingers.

Calen saw Rist leap from his sleeping position, shaking his head back and forth as he processed what was happening. There was a look of pure horror on his face when the bear raised itself on its hind legs, its