Cinder’s black eyes darted up, but he kept attacking his food. Perry took a few arrows from his quiver. Checked the fletching as he waited. He’d been wondering why Roar had helped Cinder. But now he understood, seeing the boy this way. Would the Tides end up like this without the second shipment from Sable?
“Why is that girl with you?”
Perry looked up, surprised. Cinder was still chewing, but the stick was clean. Not a scrap of meat left. His eyebrows were drawn together in a dark scowl.
Perry lifted his shoulders, allowing himself a smug smile. “Isn’t it obvious?” The boy’s black eyes went wide. “I’m kidding, Cinder. It’s nothing like that. We’re helping each other out of some trouble.”
Cinder swiped a grubby sleeve over his face. “But she is pretty.”
Perry grinned. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Sure you haven’t.” Cinder smiled like they’d agreed on something important. He pushed his hair away from his face, but it fell back into his eyes. It was a mess of knots. Like his own hair, Perry realized.
“What kind of trouble?” Cinder asked.
Perry let out a long breath. He didn’t have the time or energy to tell their story again. But he could skip to the part that mattered now. He sat forward, propping his arms over his knees. “You’ve heard of the Croven?”
“The flesh eaters? Yeah, I’ve heard of them.”
“A couple of nights ago, I got in a mix with them. I’d left Aria to hunt. When I came back, they’d found her. Three of them. They had her cornered.” Perry slid his hand down to the arrowhead. Pressed his finger against the sharp point. This story wasn’t easy to tell either. But he noticed the way Cinder’s expression had opened. The mask of scorn was gone. He was just a boy now, drawn in by a thrilling story. So Perry kept on.
“They were blood hungry. I could almost taste their hunger for her. Maybe because she’s a Dweller . . . different . . . I don’t know. But they weren’t going to walk away. I took two down with my bow. The third with my knife.”
Cinder licked his lips, his black eyes rapt. “So now they’re after you? You were just helping her.”
“That’s not how the Croven will see it.”
“But you had to kill them.” He shook his head. “People don’t ever understand.”
Perry knew he looked stunned. There was something in the way he’d said it. Like it was a burden he knew. “Cinder . . . do you understand?”
Wariness crept into the boy’s gaze. “Can you really tell when I’m lying?”
Perry shifted his shoulders, his heart beating hard. “I can.”
“Then my answer is maybe.”
Perry couldn’t believe it. This kid . . . this pathetic boy had killed someone? “What happened to you? Where are your parents?”
Cinder’s mouth twisted into a snide smile, his temper a cool, sudden drift. “They died in an Aether storm. It happened about two years ago. Poof, and they were gone. It was sad.”
Perry didn’t need his Sense to know he was lying. “Were you forced out here?” Blood Lords exiled murderers and thieves into the borderlands.
Cinder laughed, a sound that belonged to someone much older. “I like it out here.” His smile faded. “This is my home.”
Perry shook his head. He slipped the arrows back into his quiver, grabbed his bow, and stood. He had to get moving. “You can’t keep tailing us, Cinder. You’re not strong enough and it’s too dangerous. Head off while there’s still time.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“You have any idea what the Croven do to kids?”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Head south. There’s a settlement two days from here. Climb a tree if you need to sleep.”
“I’m not afraid of the Croven, Scire. They can’t hurt me. No one can.”
Perry almost laughed at him. It was an impossible claim. But Cinder’s temper was cool and sharp and clear. Perry inhaled again, waiting for it to sour with his lie.
It never did.
Perry’s mind was racing as he caught up to Aria and Roar. He hung back a ways, needing some space of his own, too absorbed by what Cinder had said. They can’t hurt me. No one can. He’d been sure when he had said those words. But how could Cinder believe something like that?
Perry wondered if he’d read the boy’s temper wrong. Was it the pine or Cinder’s strange Aether scent throwing off his nose? Or was Cinder mentally wounded? Had he convinced himself he was untouchable in order to survive alone? The afternoon hours passed, silent and swift, and Perry still struggled to understand.
At dusk they emerged from a dense grove of pines to a rugged basin. A range of sharp peaks framed the northern horizon. Roar left Aria’s side, dropping back to get a better sense of the distance between them and the Croven.
Perry fell in step with her. He counted twenty paces before he spoke. “Do you want to rest?” He wondered how she was managing. His own feet ached, and they weren’t cut and blistered.
Her gray eyes turned to him. “Why do you even bother asking?”
He stopped. “Aria, that’s not how my Sense works. I can’t tell if you’re—”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk out here,” she said without breaking her stride.
Perry frowned as he watched her go. How had it happened that now he wanted to talk but she didn’t?