Blaine Bridger's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Blaine carried the pug down into the dark ravine, one hand on his sword. The walls rose tall on both sides. The little dog's nose twitched in the cold air. Then it stiffened. Its ears went up. Before Blaine could tighten his grip, the pug kicked free and hit the ground running. "Hey!" Blaine hissed. He grabbed for the flame-furred shape and missed. The pug shot down the ravine where the stone narrowed into a tight gully of broken shale. Its dim ember glow vanished around the bend. Blaine ran after it. His boots slid on loose rock. The gully funneled him deeper, the walls closing in until he had to turn his shoulders. He called the pug's name in a sharp whisper. Nothing answered but his own breath. He stopped where the path opened again. On the ground lay a thin line of warm embers, still glowing where the pug's paws had touched the dirt. The trail bent left and faded. Blaine knelt and pressed his fingers to one. Warm. Fresh. Then he saw what had pulled the dog away. A huge carcass slumped against the ravine wall. Matted fur, white ribs curling out of the rot. The smell hit him last, thick and sour. The pug had chased that scent and kept going. The ember trail did not lead back. It led past the body, deeper into the warlord's land. Blaine stood alone. No pug. No glow. No nose to follow his friend by. He drew the longsword from his back, and its flames woke in a low, quiet light. He had wanted to stay hidden. That choice was gone now. He stepped over the carcass and followed the embers in.