SPIRITBORNE | Book 1 of the Spirits' War Trilogy [excerpt]

11: SEJKA

I lower my head and injest the snow, shivering violently as the freezing liquid flows down my throat. Now I'm frozen both inside and out. Perfect.

The thought occurs to me that there might be something useful in my backpack. It's a desperate thought, but maybe Lauren had put something in there. A flare maybe? I Shift so that I have use of my fingers; after a while of digging through the pack, I reach something soft and threadlike: Sejka's feather. I stroke its fringe, tears trickling down my cheeks and onto the blanket of white beneath.

Damn it. Lost in the woods and all I have is a stupid feather. How could David justify leaving me to fend for myself?

Shifting back to wolf form, I continue to plod through the snow, which stays solid even with the sun directly overhead. How long had I been sleeping? I know I let my mind go last night, but I don't regret it. I couldn't've done any damage to myself or anyone else last night anyway. I was buried neck-deep in snow and my muscles could barely move. Who cares if I go feral there, right?

Remember what the beta said. I need to learn to control myself or else my mind will slip under when I need it the most. And that would really suck. I've got the Covenant hunting me, not to mention I'm partially responsible for the death of an eight-year-old.

No. That wasn't my fault. Even if I hadn't gone back in, the soldier still would have come after us; I'm sure of it...

I burst into uncontrollable sobs, but the tears don't flow. Taking a deep breath, I sink into the snow and lay motionless, letting the cold settle in against my heart of ice.

As I drift off into nothingness, a raven caws overhead. The sound is faint but gets louder over time. I shudder as I remember hearing the distant lament of a raven as Sean drew his last breath.

"Skye."

It sounds distant, like a misty whisper from the darkest corners of my imagination.

"Skye."

I cock my head to the side, eyes searching the forest, but I neither smell nor hear anything. I'm going insane again. I'm imagining things.

"Skye, it's me."

This time the voice is more familiar. The words have a distinct accent to them, and the voice quivers as if it's spent long periods of time unused.

Am I dreaming? I turn and lift my snout to the darkness of the woods. I want to verify that my ears are not playing cruel tricks on my starved mind and body. But this is no trick.

It's a woman. Sejka.

I squint and tilt my head. Sejka walks up to me in her human form, probably anticipating that I might be jumpy if a big wolf came bounding out of the darkness. I watch, spellbound, as she gracefully approaches me with the athleticism of a young woman. I feel a strong urge to open my arms to her in an embrace. It must be the starvation and resulting insanity calling to me; I have hardly spoken to this woman before, let alone hugged her.

"Sejka?" I ask, not wanting to believe that it's really her; I don't want to get my hopes up. My canine larynx doesn't allow the words to form, however, so it comes out as a whine.

She chuckles. "Look at you. Covered in snowballs."

I glance down at my fur. Once dignified, it's now completely white and lumpy. Powder clings to every inch of my body. No wonder I haven't wanted to move; I'm probably twice as heavy now. I Shift even though I'd rather stay in my warm furry form.

As I alter my body's shape, the snowballs plat against the ground in droves. Sejka struggles to hide her laughter. I glare at her, unable to see the humour in the situation. Not after all that's happened.