All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Rest Stop
Word Count: 412
Every square inch of her body ached when she eased herself out of the Jeep, the result of the long hours of travel across the rugged terrain and her own mind-numbing exhaustion. She stretched and twisted, trying to flex muscles she hadn’t even known existed until this exact moment, wincing as the tightly wound bandage over her upper arm pinched against the tender skin.
Ryder had walked ahead to inspect the small cabin, and she watched him as he tested the doorknob - it was locked - and peered cautiously through the small windows. His limp had faded enough to be barely noticeable, and the burns on his arms had all but faded entirely. It was enough to elicit a jealous snort from her that was just loud enough for him to hear - he twisted to look at her over his shoulder, and she quickly waved him away as she trudged wearily to the foot of the small porch.
“Well?” she asked. “Are we breaking a window, or kicking the door in, or...” She trailed off as he brushed past her, back toward the Jeep. “What are you doing?” she called after him.
“We’re not staying here,” he said, the first words he’d spoken in almost two hours.
“Not... whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She waved her hands in emphasis of her words, though he wasn’t even looking at her. “What do you mean, not staying here?” He gave her his typical look, one that indicated there was little to be confused about. “Ryder, this is the first place we’ve seen all day.”
“I’m aware.”
“And it’s almost dark.”
"I’m aware,” he repeated, this time with a significantly more annoyed tone, like a parent speaking to an aggravating child.
“We don’t even know if we’re going to find another -“
“The place is full of spirits.” As he said it, she noticed the gold coin rolling between his fingers, the surface lit with a glow that spilled across his hand. It was the closest she’d ever seen to a nervous habit in him, the way he would pick at the small treasure whenever something was off in their environment. “There is no way in hell we’re spending the night with them.”
“But...” She looked back and forth helpless from him to the front door of the small building. She was so exhausted she wanted to cry. “But maybe they’re not -”
“Katrina.” He pointed to the open passenger door, his face impassive. “Get in.”
Word Count: 412
Every square inch of her body ached when she eased herself out of the Jeep, the result of the long hours of travel across the rugged terrain and her own mind-numbing exhaustion. She stretched and twisted, trying to flex muscles she hadn’t even known existed until this exact moment, wincing as the tightly wound bandage over her upper arm pinched against the tender skin.
Ryder had walked ahead to inspect the small cabin, and she watched him as he tested the doorknob - it was locked - and peered cautiously through the small windows. His limp had faded enough to be barely noticeable, and the burns on his arms had all but faded entirely. It was enough to elicit a jealous snort from her that was just loud enough for him to hear - he twisted to look at her over his shoulder, and she quickly waved him away as she trudged wearily to the foot of the small porch.
“Well?” she asked. “Are we breaking a window, or kicking the door in, or...” She trailed off as he brushed past her, back toward the Jeep. “What are you doing?” she called after him.
“We’re not staying here,” he said, the first words he’d spoken in almost two hours.
“Not... whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She waved her hands in emphasis of her words, though he wasn’t even looking at her. “What do you mean, not staying here?” He gave her his typical look, one that indicated there was little to be confused about. “Ryder, this is the first place we’ve seen all day.”
“I’m aware.”
“And it’s almost dark.”
"I’m aware,” he repeated, this time with a significantly more annoyed tone, like a parent speaking to an aggravating child.
“We don’t even know if we’re going to find another -“
“The place is full of spirits.” As he said it, she noticed the gold coin rolling between his fingers, the surface lit with a glow that spilled across his hand. It was the closest she’d ever seen to a nervous habit in him, the way he would pick at the small treasure whenever something was off in their environment. “There is no way in hell we’re spending the night with them.”
“But...” She looked back and forth helpless from him to the front door of the small building. She was so exhausted she wanted to cry. “But maybe they’re not -”
“Katrina.” He pointed to the open passenger door, his face impassive. “Get in.”