The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 9
Bingmei slowly stood and approached the beast. Quion gave her a reassuring smile. She reached out tentatively, and the snow leopard growled low in its chest.
“Oh, don’t be sassy,” Quion said, giving it a playful cuff.
Bingmei had never really cared for the snow leopard, and apparently the feeling was mutual. She’d injured it once, when it had approached them outside of Kunmia’s quonsuun, and Quion had fed it some fish. He’d shared a strange bond with the beast ever since.
Bingmei hoped it wouldn’t continue to glow and attract attention to them, but she realized that whatever had caused it to glow had frightened the much larger lions. For that, she was grateful.
“I think the mountains are that way,” Quion said, rising and pointing.
“I can find them even in the dark,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Quion nodded but then stopped and picked up a piece of the branch that had cracked off the meiwood tree. “I’ll take this with us and carve it,” he said. He gave her a knowing look. “You’re going to need a new staff.”
CHAPTER THREE
Forgotten Memories
They walked all night. There was no path or trail leading to the gorge, but it didn’t matter. They were used to journeying in the rugged countryside. Beyond the grove, they found themselves once again in a deep meadow crisscrossed with rivers. The silver light of the leopard had faded as soon as they left the meiwood trees, and the beast walked alongside Quion, away from Bingmei.
In the solitude and quiet, her mind wandered to Rowen. Had he survived? He’d once used the connection they shared to find her at the ice caves. She could likely use it to discover his fate, but the prospect terrified her. What if the connection was gone? Would it mean he was dead?
Sucking in a breath, she turned her head up to the stars overhead, closed her eyes, and reached for the connection. Relief flooded her when she found it—an invisible thread tying her to another. And she knew deep inside that Rowen was still alive.
Although she could not communicate with him, she knew how to find him. The thread would guide her. She sighed, wishing she could see him one more time. Wishing she had allowed herself to be more open with him. But King Shulian’s prophecy for her had spoken only of sorrow, not of love. And yes, a sword shall pierce through your own soul also. That the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.
She knew what that meant: this journey would end in her death.
Opening her eyes, she sighed and continued onward. The sidelong look Quion gave her indicated he’d noticed that she’d stopped, but he didn’t say anything.
At dawn, they set up camp by one of the streams, and in short order, the young fisherman had caught their breakfast, including extra fish for his cat. They ate the fish raw, fearing they might draw attention from the skies with smoke, but Quion added some spices to the jiggling pieces, which made them more palatable. Bingmei chewed the raw fish, feeling her stomach gurgle at the sight of the leopard devouring its meal. Quion squatted nearby, eating his own meal in silence.
The valley they were in had been formed by glaciers, the stone containing a multitude of colors. It reminded her of the vision the phoenix had given her. The mazelike canyon they were about to enter had also been carved by time and weather. Her thoughts were on the phoenix and the path ahead when she smelled a sudden surge of fear from her friend.
“I think that’s a bear,” Quion said softly, his voice trembling.
She whipped her head around and saw the massive beast lumbering in the waters, heading their way. It was larger than any crook-backed brown bear she’d seen before. Its fur was a grayish white, and it had a ridge of small bony horns protruding from its brow. The claws were bigger than daggers.
“Let’s get out of here,” Bingmei suggested, feeling her own stomach clench with mirrored dread. They abandoned the scraps and quickly fled into the brush, staying low to the ground.
Once they’d concealed themselves, they peered around the edge of a boulder and watched the gray bear approach their camp. It stopped to sniff the remains of their meal. Then, in an almost bored fashion, it lumbered away, continuing through the river, which hardly covered it. Its noisy splashing eventually receded, and they breathed easier.
The sky held thin wisps of clouds, and the morning sunlight colored the rippled edges of the valley walls. It was truly a beautiful scene, a marked contrast to the dangers they faced.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m tired. What about you?”
“I could use a little nap. Maybe we should rest until midday?”
“Good enough.”
They found some shelter from the sun in a stand of aspen. The thin white trunks were wide enough apart to give them plenty of room to lie down, the green leaves provided cover from any dragons flying above, and the tall grass made for a comfortable bedroll. They were both so exhausted that neither stayed watch, trusting that the snow leopard would alert them should any predators come.
Bingmei awakened to the sound of lightly scraping wood. Quion was seated a little ways off from her, whittling the meiwood branch they’d taken from the grove. His head was bent in concentration, and she watched as he made smooth, patient strokes with the knife, spraying the ground with little flecks of bark. The leopard sat beside him on its haunches, watching.
She sat up and twisted her back until it popped, then did the same for her neck. The shade from the aspen leaves was pleasant, but she could see the sun directly overhead as she peeked upward. It was noon.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked him, seeing that he’d noticed her rise.
He shrugged. “Not too long. You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you.”
She rose and shook the dead leaves off