Cameron

CAMERON

There was no death for Cam when her mouth touched the meat of the stag, only the hot iron tang of blood drizzling down her throat, and the tough chew of heart.

She could only mull this over for half a breath before gagging. Bert—no, Wilder Feyrer—clapped a hand over her mouth before she could spit it out.

" Swallow. "

Cam thrashed against the arms of the men constraining her. Feyrer grabbed her neck and dug the heel of his other palm against her mouth, then pinched her nose shut.

She swallowed the heart out of panic, and Feyrer released his hold on her. Cam drank in air. She coughed hard in an attempt to throw the meat back up, trying to rip her arms free so she could stick a finger down her throat.

"This is your sacrifice," Feyrer announced. "Your divine intervention."

She could see the whites of the eyes of those standing around the table, every fucking person awestruck into silence. Rage filled the face of the man who knelt near the first dead body. A touch from the void animal had killed his... friend? Partner? But not Cam. Because Cam was the.. .

Horseshit.

This was a trick, just like the cards.

Then explain Isaac. Explain Feyrer standing right in front of you.

Feyrer turned back to Cam, a gleam in his eye. It wasn't a wicked gleam, even though she wished it were. She hated that his eyes were full of wonder.

"Goddess, protect us from Shadow."

"Wilder . . ." she whispered.

Feyrer smiled at her. "Took you a while this time, Dr. Yarrow."

He knew who she was, even though he was so much younger than when they'd worked together.

"Gather ‘round," Tammy said. "Our Lover is about to enter her new world the way she was born into her old one."

Her skin felt like it was stretched too taut over her bones. She couldn't breathe, stretch, move her joints. Misery trickled into her abdomen, filling up her hollow, hopeless body. The men who held her took advantage of her sudden stillness, adjusting their grip on her arms.

Hesitant, the villagers slowly gathered around her. She recognized most of them, like Spice, whom she shared a scraping duty shift with. She looked remorseful.

No, not remorseful. Embarrassed.

She still couldn't find Dee among the faces.

Bert stepped away from Cam, and Tammy approached, holding a dirty cloth grocery bag in one hand, rifle in the other.

Cam's paralyzed throat held her scream hostage. Tammy pulled the bag over her head. It smelled like shit and mildew, and Tammy held the excess bunched beneath her chin. Then the Elder kneecapped her with the butt of her rifle.

In a burst of pain, Cam fell to the ground.

"A shame," Tammy said. "I'm sure you spent so much time sewing those pockets, trying to decide what to take with you."

The zipper on Cam's coat was dragged down so forcefully, it ground against the track and snapped. Broken . Cam's only jacket. Tammy yanked her head up. Hands and the sharp edge of a blade tore the shirt from her body, her flesh puckering with the cold.

Her will to fight returned, and Cam thrashed as hard as she could, but it didn't matter. The clothes they couldn't wrangle from her, they cut from her body. Everything. Even her shoes. Every time she took another breath and screamed "STOP," she heard nothing in response. Was the entire village still watching her, stark naked and fighting for her life? Her dignity?

"Please," Cam whispered. She never begged. Not for anything in her whole goddamned life, but now...

Above her, metal clanged against metal.

"Go forth into the new world as you came into this one."

Viscous liquid splattered against the bag and the top of her head. She smelled the vile, bloody filth immediately as it cascaded down her shoulders, her breasts. It saturated the bag, and she dipped her head to keep the fabric out of her mouth. Her efforts helped little; she tasted iron and death, and spat it out against the bag. Once dragged to her feet, Cam was forced forward, mud squelching between her bare toes.

She slipped over the slick ground until ferns and foliage whipped at her bare legs. They'd taken her beyond the gate.

"Tell me where I'm going," she begged. "Tell me what's happening."

The men dragging her said nothing.

Cold mist lapped her bare flesh, thorns and twigs tearing into her legs and feet. They shoved her forward so quickly, she could hardly catch her breath, but she screamed at the top of her lungs anyway.

They didn't gag her. They didn't care. And she thrashed the entire way. By the time she was forced to her knees again, her body was numb and flayed by the forest.

All the work she'd done to stay clean. All the confidence she'd had, thinking she could best these lunatics from inside their trap.

One man bound her wrists behind her back with rope, then they lifted their hands from her, and their footsteps faded into the dark.

" Hey! " she screamed. They couldn't do this to her. Not like this.

Her hands shook as she cried. Freeing herself took as long as the journey to get wherever she was. She split her nail below the quick as she worked the knot. Mist clung to her body, the moisture loosening dried blood and snaking down her skin in rivulets. Soon she was soaked.

When the rope finally unraveled from her wrists, she tore the bag from her head and shivered in the unforgivably cold night.

Fog muted the light from the moon. Only black deciduous skeletons pierced the still, gray veil. Pebbles and detritus dug into her knees. She wrapped her arms around her wet body, and released a string of uncontrollable whimpers.

Yarrow was alone in the raw, festering wilderness, naked and covered in blood.

No Mother came to fetch her.