Read Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3 for Free Online

the clearing that made it hard to breathe. Still, it would soon be worse: another dozen members would be arriving before dawn with messages from the Twins on where to reposition. Until then, they waited, and Rox ensured their safety.
    She felt a tremble and silken sweep across the back of her neck as Fisk woke. He crept out of his safe haven between her nape and the folds of her hood to rest on her shoulder, his long, pointed nose sniffing at the air, his tiny claws digging into her sleeve for balance. As a waterferret, Fisk’s sleek fur repelled the rain but he still hid in her cloak and jackets to avoid the storms.
    Rox grinned wryly, the expression crooked, good-natured and rarely seen. “It stopped raining.”
    Fisk grunted deep in his chest and skittered down Rox’s arm, dropping into the deep pocket at her hip with practiced ease. Rox patted her dear friend through her pocket and he emitted a rumbling sound not unlike an eitteh’s purr. “You’re lucky you found me. You never would have survived as a fishing ferret.” Fisk nipped at her finger through the cloth of her pocket in response.
    Rox laid out her thin, woven bedmat along the edge of camp, where she could see every member of her traveling party. Her scouting hadn’t turned up any threats, but she was still cautious. She would have to keep consistent watch over the camp as new segments of their party rejoined the camp and do another perimeter sweep before dawn. There was always a chance an angry villager or assassin bent on vengeance would try tailing the raiding parties back to camp. Rox didn’t blame them. She’d hunt them down, too if she’d lived in one of the villages the Circle targeted. Part of her wished she could let a few angry villagers pass, give them a chance at vengeance, but if even one member of the Circle died due to her negligence, she wouldn’t get paid. And at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered.
    She scowled, the expression etched so deeply in her face the lines were becoming permanent. The scent of the camp was overwhelming: The odor of dozens of long-term travelers would be bad enough, but there was such a universal rejection of all forms of hygiene among the Circle’s men that the smell made Rox’s head spin. Rox thanked the Mother once more for her decision to spend some of her last coin on a charm that warded against lice and other parasites. She could see the tiny bugs in the moonlight, leaping into the air off the men’s hair and beards. She shuddered and turned away.
    Rox turned and started tying down her canvas rain-guard. As she reached the last knot, she was shoved from behind. Rox fell with a hard crash, slamming into the ground with a grunt. Pine needles and gravel dug into her arms and scattered beneath her, clacking against nearby trees and bed mats. Fisk raced out of her pocket and into the bushes, confused by the fall and wary of an oncoming fight. She instantly leapt back to her feet, charging forward to meet the marauder who’d shoved her. Her small, lithe frame barely reached the man’s shoulder, but the ferocity in Rox’s sage green eyes made any difference in their size negligible.
    In an instant, every member of the Circle was awake and on their feet, knives and swords at the ready, searching the darkness for the source of the crash.
    Rox glared up at the man above her, his sharp, square jaw clenched in rage, his long, mud-brown hair streaked with grey tied at his nape. He wasn’t much older than Rox, maybe 80 tenmoons, but he hadn’t aged well. Rox’s lips pulled back from her teeth in a feral growl. When had he gotten back? “Push me again, Calder.”
    “Gryert’s dead. I found his body dumped outside Pinewood. Stripped of everything. Even his charms.”
    A tense silence fell over the clearing, every eye on Rox.
    Rox’s voice was cold and even. “Gryert left the party.”
    “You were hired to keep us safe.”
    Rox hissed between her teeth, the heat of rage and determination resting