Chapter 17: The River Crossing Challenge

(Penny’s POV)

The kiss lingered like smoke after a fire, warm, hazy, impossible to ignore.

We broke apart breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, his blood, streaked hands framing my face like I was something fragile and fierce all at once. The river rushed behind me, black and unforgiving under the moon. The village howls had faded—distant echoes now, mingled with the wet thud of bodies hitting dirt back in Harrowford. Genesis’s chest heaved against mine, his breath ragged from the fight, from the shift, from whatever this was pulling us together.

“We can’t stay here,” he rasped, voice low and rough.

“I know.”

He pulled back just enough to search my eyes—silver fading back to storm-gray, pupils still wide. A cut above his brow wept blood; I reached up without thinking, thumb brushing it away. He caught my wrist, gentle, but holding.

“You’re bleeding,” I said stupidly.

“So are you.” He nodded at my lip, split from earlier. His thumb grazed it, soft as a whisper.

I winced. Not from pain.

“We need to move,” he said again, but he didn’t let go.

The howls shifted, closer now, more organized. Crimson reinforcements, maybe. Or villagers turning on us after the scouts spilled blood in their streets.

Genesis cursed under his breath. Grabbed my hand. “River. Now.”

We ran along the bank, hand in hand, his grip anchoring me as my boots slipped on slick rocks. The water roared louder here, wider, faster. No bridge. No ford. Just churning black that looked like it could swallow us whole.

He stopped at a narrow bend where the current slowed just enough to tempt fate. Boulders broke the surface like jagged teeth.

“We cross here.”

I stared at the water. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s the only way. The scent trail ends in the river. They’ll lose us on the other side.”

I swallowed. “I’m not a great swimmer.”

“You won’t need to swim.” He stripped off his cloak, torn from the shift, and tied it around his waist like a makeshift belt. Then he pulled me close, one arm around my waist, the other pointing at the boulders. “I’ll carry you. Jump where I jump. Hold on.”

My heart hammered. “And if we slip?”

“We don’t.”

Simple as that.

He stepped into the shallows first, testing the current. Water swirled around his calves, cold enough that I felt the chill through my clothes when I followed. He kept me upstream, his body breaking the flow.

First boulder: easy leap. His arm like iron around me, landing solid.

Second: farther. The rock was slick with moss. We hit it together, me gasping as spray hit my face like needles.

Third: the current grabbed at my legs mid-jump. I slipped—boot skidding off the edge.

Genesis yanked me back—hard—pulling me flush against him. We teetered for a heartbeat, then steadied.

“Got you,” he murmured against my hair.

I nodded, breathless. “Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

We kept going.

Halfway across, the river deepened. Water to our thighs now, pushing like hands trying to drag us under. The far bank taunted, twenty feet away, trees thick and dark, promising cover.

A howl cut the night, too close. Crimson wolves breaking through the fields.

Genesis tensed. “Faster.”

Next boulder was submerged, barely a hump under the foam.

He jumped first, landed knee-deep, turned, arms outstretched.

“Jump!”

I did.

The current hit me like a wall mid-air. I slammed into him, chest to chest—his arms closing around me like a vise. Water surged over us, soaking to the bone, but he held.

We staggered to the next rock.

Then the sky opened.

Rain, sudden, furious. Fat drops hammered the river, turning the surface to chaos. Visibility dropped to nothing. The boulders vanished under foam.

Genesis shouted over the roar: “Hold on!”

He shifted strategy, half-carrying, half-dragging me through the waist-deep water now. The current clawed at us, rocks underfoot shifting like traitors.

My foot caught on something, submerged branch, maybe, and I went down.

Water closed over my head, black, freezing, pulling.

Panic spiked.

Then his hand, strong, unyielding, yanked me up. I surfaced sputtering, coughing, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Don’t let go!” he yelled.

We pushed forward, blind, desperate.

The far bank loomed suddenly, muddy slope, roots dangling like ropes.

Genesis boosted me first, hands on my hips, lifting like I was nothing. I grabbed a root, hauled myself up, turned back for him.

He leaped, grabbed my outstretched hand.

I pulled, muscles screaming, but he was too heavy, the mud too slick.

We slipped together, back toward the water.

Then his claws extended, half-shift, and dug into the bank. He hauled us both up in one surge, collapsing beside me in the mud.

We lay there gasping, rain pounding our backs, river roaring like it was angry we’d escaped.

I laughed, hysterical, breathless. “That was insane.”

He rolled onto his side, looked at me, hair plastered to his face, eyes bright with adrenaline.

“You’re insane,” he said. But there was a smile in it.

Then he pulled me close, arms wrapping around me, body heat chasing the chill.

We stayed like that until the shivers stopped. Until the howls faded into the storm.

“We need shelter,” he said eventually.

I nodded against his chest.

He helped me up. We stumbled into the trees, deeper, darker now.

Found a hollow under a massive fallen oak, roots forming a natural cave, dry enough inside.

He built a small fire, careful, shielded from the rain. We stripped off wet layers, hung them on branches to dry. I kept the tunic; he kept the makeshift belt.

We huddled close under the shared cloak, skin to skin for warmth, nothing more. But the awareness was there, electric, undeniable.

“Tell me something,” I said into the quiet. “About you. Not the prince. Just… you.”

He was silent so long I thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then: “I used to sneak out as a pup. Run the wilds alone. No guards. No expectations. Just the moon and the wind. Felt free.”

“What changed?”

“The throne. The wars. The dying.”

I turned my head. Looked at him in the firelight.

“You could have that again. After this.”

He met my gaze. “Maybe.”

His hand found mine under the cloak. Squeezed.

“Sleep,” he murmured.

I closed my eyes.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

Because the river had washed away more than our scents.

It had washed away the last of my doubts.

I was falling.

Hard.

And the marshes, and home, felt farther away than ever.