Nyx Evenfall's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

Nyx set down the cup and studied the room again. The supplies were too exact. Two full water jugs. Dried meat. A folded blanket sized for one. Someone had measured a stranger and packed for them. But no letter waited on the counter. No name carved in the wall. Nyx searched the shelves, the bed, under the sink. Nothing said who. Nothing said why. Without a name, they could not tell a gift from a snare. Boots scraped the rock outside. Nyx spun. The heavy door swung open and a broad man filled it. Scars marked his bare chest. Strips of cloth wrapped his forearms. He carried no sword now, but his shoulders said he had used one. He looked at Nyx the way a hunter checks a trap he set. "You drank the water," the man said. "Good. I left it three days ago." Nyx backed toward the wall. "You knew I'd come." "I was told you would." He stepped inside. "Marcus Ironwood. I stock this place. I don't ask why." "Told by who?" Marcus did not answer. His silence was its own wall. Behind him, past the open door, a second figure waited in the heat. An old man leaned on a walking stick, gray hair wild, a wooden bowl hooked to his belt. His clothes were soaked through, though no water ran for miles. "That's Silas," Marcus said. "He asks questions. I don't." The old man came in slow. He looked at the jugs, the meat, the blanket, and his blue eyes went sharp. "Same hand packed this that packed mine," he said. "Once. When I was small. Someone fed me and left no name." Nyx's chest tightened. "You know who left it?" "No." Silas set his bowl on the counter. "I've hunted them my whole life. I follow the water. It led me here. To you." A growl cut the room. Marcus turned. Outside, low against the ground, a striped beast crept toward the door. Ribs showed under matted fur. Its yellow eyes locked on the food. It lunged. Marcus caught the door and slammed it half shut. The beast hit wood and snapped through the gap. Nyx grabbed the dried meat and hurled it past the animal's head. The beast wheeled, snatched the meat off the rock, and bolted into the open. Marcus pushed the door closed and dropped the bar. He breathed hard. "See," he said. "Not everything out here was sent for you." Nyx stood shaking. But now they had a thread. Silas had chased the same unseen hand for years and never named it. That meant the hand was real, patient, and hiding on purpose. Not a friend. Not yet an enemy. Something that wanted Nyx alive and did not want to be found. "Then I'll find them," Nyx said. "Before they decide what I'm for." Silas nodded once. "Then you follow me."