Read Online Fire Hawk by Justine Dare Justine Davis - Free Book Online

of them. “That fire, of course.”
    Kane raised his head. A blaze just short of a bonfire danced merrily just a few yards away.
    “That . . . wasn’t there before.”
    “You were probably too . . . distracted to notice.”
    Kane opened his mouth to say he would have to be dead not to have seen this roaring fire. And closed it again; he’d been close enough to dead, inside at least, that Tal could very well be right. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to push Tal for an answer; while he wasn’t the kind who felt those thought to have . . . unusual talents should be executed—how could he, when he did not even believe in such things?—he didn’t want to hear Tal lay claim to such skills. Tal was his friend, in truth his only friend; he did not wish to risk that.
    “Convenient,” Kane muttered as he did as Tal directed and sat by the fire, welcoming the heat, “that you chose to camp here.”
    “Not really,” Tal muttered. “Here, use this blanket.”
    Kane blinked as Tal held out the heavy cloth he seemed to have produced out of nowhere. “Where did that come—never mind.” He took it, then eyed Tal up and down. “You were nearly as wet as I.”
    “I’m fine. I wasn’t in so deep as you, and these”—he gestured at his leggings—“repel water nicely. Rest, my friend. Just rest. You need it.”
    Kane pulled the blanket around him, thinking it surprisingly warming, even as heavy as it was.
    “Sleep for a while,” Tal urged.
    Kane shook his head. “I . . . cannot.”
    “The dreams will not bother you,” Tal promised.
    It was as close as he’d come to talking about what had just happened. And Kane knew it was as close as he would come. He also knew Tal did not make promises lightly. Still, he hesitated; he had no wish to confront the nightmares yet again. Asleep or awake, they were no less ugly, no less barbarous, and the self-condemnation he felt no easier to bear.
    “Sleep, Kane,” Tal put his hand on Kane’s shoulder. “Take what peace slumber can give you.”
    Perhaps he could sleep, Kane thought. Just for a while. Lightly. Lightly enough that he could wake himself if the dreams threatened. Just for a while.
    SHE HAD FAILED. She had come all this way, only to fail at her sacred duty as the Hawk. There was only one man who could help them, and she had at last reached him, only to be turned away without hesitation. She hadn’t made the least impression on him, hadn’t been able to even begin to convince him. So the Hawk clan would end, because of her failure. They would die, all of them, because of their foolishness in entrusting her with their future.
    The only thing left for her to do was to go back and die with them.
    Why had they thought she could do this? When she’d told them what she was going to do, that she would bring back the mythical warrior Kane to lead them, they had cheered, certain in their desperation that she had found the answer. She had tried to credit the storyteller, but the old man had demurred, insisting it would be she who carried out the task.
    “Your faith was sadly misplaced,” she said to the old man, as if he were there to hear.
    “No, Jenna. It was not.”
    She whirled, staring into the darkness. She saw nothing. She noted vaguely that her ankle was much improved, although it mattered little to her anymore; if she died on her trek home, at least she would be spared the humiliation and agony of telling her people she had failed. She held her breath, her certainty of what she’d heard fading as the moments silently passed, broken only by the distant sound of some night creature moving, and the slight rustle of leaves in the shifting air.
    She sank back onto her log seat, stirred the fire, and added a log. She tugged the blanket closer around her. After a few minutes, she felt oddly drowsy. She slipped down to sit on the ground, using the log as a rest for her back.
    Her eyelids drooped.
    “You must give him time, Jenna.”
    Her head snapped up. She