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Chapter 13: The Trespasser
Part 3
Frix shook his head, and began to button this chest padding back up. Swinn took a step closer, his jaw working up and down.
“No one knows I’ve met you,” Frix said.
“So?”
“So I’m going to leave now. That, or you execute me right here and now for gross disobedience on behalf of Head of Root Ottrah of Bit.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Frix.”
“But you’re okay killing witches? Even little ones?”
“No one’s going to be killing any…” Swinn looked away, lips frowning and twitching.
“You never saw me, okay?” Frix continued to back away.
“I can’t…”
“Don’t let them do this Swinn.” He backed away a little farther.
Swinn tensed and quivered, his sharp held out almost defensively. Frix secured his foot on some solid earth and held for a moment.
“Please don’t let them,” said Frix.
Then Swinn exhaled, and let his gaze drop again. Frix sprung off his footing and made a run for it, crashing through a gap in the bushes.
“Frix! No!”
A line of leaves in front of him snapped and tore as a stone cracked through. Frix pivoted and spied a thick tangle of trunks. He dipped and dodged between them. One of the trunks sprayed chips of wood as another stone missed him.
He twisted and leapt up, snagging a low branch and getting a read on the Seedwind. The slinger shots had cost Swinn distance, and Frix was able to get up and into the dense leafy cover well before Swinn reached the trunk. The leaves would shield him from view but he knew his noise would make him an easy target, so he chose not to power through and instead picked himself along the thick spears of wood, spider-like.
“Frix!” hissed Swinn, still down below. Frix continued to move slowly, spying the exact type of branch he wanted one tree over.
Then he heard Swinn climbing, and used the moment to speed up and take a few leaps. He bounced from one branch to another, crashing over to the tree with the long, thin branch. He froze, listening for Swinn—looking as well. It was a sea of leaves.
The sea tore apart as a stone rocketed through. It stung his scalp, grazing it. The blowback of plant matter followed into his face and nose. He focused on staying still and stilling a sneeze. A quarter inch closer and he’d’ve been done.
Leaves rustled as Swinn moved again. He was never quite as quiet as Frix could be.
Back in spider mode, Frix picked his way over to the long tree limb he’d spotted, keeping most of his weight on a sturdier branch. He heard Swinn closing in, and let his weight transfer. The thin branch creaked and rustled him down through the leaf maze. Another stone whizzed by overhead. Frix sunk down and out, right to the ground. He held onto the branch and looked around, spotted a chunky rock and picked it up. He hurled it up into the canopy and let the branch go at the same time, letting himself fall and roll away as the foliage snapped and swished. No stones bit him as he rolled and put a tree trunk between him and where he figured Swinn was.
Soon he heard the Seedwind continuing to pick his way through the branches. He took out his own shortsharp and crept backwards. Swinn probably knew Frix had gotten to the ground, but now he was stuck up there unless he wanted to expose himself to a thrown sharp.
They had both done enough canopy cover training enough to know this, but Frix was still relieved when Swinn called out, “Okay, fine! Go! But I have to tell Mossa what happened.”
Frix bit back a response and worked on putting more quiet distance between them. He turned around when he felt it was safe, and kept on as silent as he could for a long time, in case he was being tailed.
Before he knew it, the day had drained from the sky and he was out of food and as tired and worn as he ever had been. Alone again, Frix guessed he was half a sun from the witches.
As sleep grabbed him, greedy and uncompromising, he said, “I’m almost there.” Maybe she’d hear.
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