Free Borderlands by Skye Melki-Wegner

hands shoved into his pockets. Then he brings his hands out and gestures, uselessly, at the forest ahead. ‘I didn’t have a choice. You have to understand, I –’
    And that’s when we hear the voices.

There’s nowhere to hide but the log.
    We stuff ourselves into its innards, hearts beating faster than cricket-song. The bottom of the log has deteriorated, and the ground below is sunken like a dimple, so there’s just enough space to cram ourselves into sitting positions.
    A moment later, they’re here. I glimpse their silhouettes through a crack in the log’s shell. Hunters. Sharr’s hunters. And finally Sharr herself: tall and slender, her face framed by sleek dark hair. She doesn’t carry a flame this time – she simply walks in silence, lips drawn together like blades.
    We’ve been so stupid. So arrogant. Splashing through the water, joking around, acting like we were on holiday. We put too much faith in our own cleverness and too little in the abilities of Sharr and the king’s hunters. Of course she knew which way we’d travel; where else would we go? Refugees don’t run towards the west. They run towards the Valley.
    Sharr beckons her companion after her, and I recognise the hunter with the Reptile proclivity. A couple of other shadowy figures follow before the entire group vanishes into the trees. A night breeze crinkles the canopy, and moonlight dances in tiny chinks upon the forest floor.
    The forest is silent.
    Lukas leans closer to breathe in my ear. ‘Are they gone?’
    I’ve no better idea than Lukas has. But I can’t see any hunters through my knothole, and I know we’re hidden well inside our log. So long as we don’t move . . .
    â€˜We’ll have to wait it out,’ I whisper.
    My only comfort is that our friends are safely cloaked in my illusion. So long as they keep silent – and so long as the hunters don’t literally step on them – they’re just as well hidden as we are.
    Moments turn to minutes, then to longer trails of time. A few rays of moonlight sneak into our log – just enough to catch the shine of Lukas’s eyes. I look away. My limbs are stiff, but I don’t dare move. For all I know, a hunter could be lurking in the nearby trees.
    Lukas’s breath is on the back of my neck. I don’t know how I feel about it. I tingle at the touch, and part of me secretly longs to draw a little closer. The rest of me wants to recoil. If he doesn’t have a good explanation for sneaking off . . .
    Finally, I can’t stand it any more. I twist about to face him in the dark. ‘Why?’ I whisper.
    For a moment, Lukas seems to forget how to breathe. Then he exhales. ‘I saw something . . . when I used the eagle’s eyes. Something I didn’t tell you.’
    â€˜Something bad?’
    Lukas hesitates again. ‘Something only I can fix.’
    â€˜So you decided to run away?’
    â€˜I decided to fix it.’
    I give my lips a nervous little lick. I can’t help but notice that Lukas’s breath smells sweet, like apricot syrup, and it’s oddly distracting in the close confines of our hiding place. ‘Why didn’t you tell the rest of us?’
    â€˜I didn’t want you to come. It’s too dangerous.’
    â€˜If it’s not too dangerous for you, it’s not too dangerous for –’
    Lukas raises a gentle finger to my lips, cutting me off. ‘Danika, it’s to do with my family.’
    I want to swipe his hand away and tell him to shove it somewhere the sun won’t shine, but I can tell he isn’t doing this to be arrogant. He looks gentle, nervous, like it’s genuinely paining him to keep these secrets. ‘Tell me,’ I say.
    â€˜I can’t,’ he whispers. ‘Not here, not now. But I’ll tell you when it’s safe. I promise, Danika –