Something is not right, and I know I'm not the only one who feels it. Ashavee's ears sit high on her fuzzy head, and the horizon has Greer captivated. The moments of light-heartedness have vanished, replaced by unease. It is too quiet, too serious, too alarming.
Nothing is truly out of the ordinary. The higher the trail takes us, the colder it gets. The wind picks up, blowing over the thick blanket of snow. Hundreds of naked trees reach for the dreary sky, tall and ominous, like white boney fingers reaching out of the ground. Not one living creature has crossed our path—no birds, no small animals, not even an insect. Which has me asking, are we the brave or the foolish? My guess: we're a little of both.
Terro holds the map in front of him, searching for any proof that we are on the right path. "I suggest the next person in your family line who creates a map be more detailed oriented," he mumbles, lowering the parchment to scan the land ahead of us.
"Is it the map or the navigator?" Greer asks, raising an eyebrow.
It isn't Terro's fault that he is struggling. We've all taken our turns attempting to read it. It's impossible with everything under inches of snow. A blank sheet of paper would be more accurate. And fuck, if it doesn't feel like we are wasting time.
We've been gone from Pliris for almost two full days, with no communication. Our kingdom could already be under attack... or worse. I grapple with the thoughts about our people. The only reason I don't turn us around is because I know this is our only hope. Returning home empty-handed will not help the situation. If anything, it will make it worse.
Ashavee stops several feet in front of us. Her ears twitch while her feline gaze takes in everything around us. I lift my fist in the air, bringing everyone to a halt. My palm warms as my gift sparks to life, and I lock eyes with Greer. Water drips from her outstretched fingers while she studies the blank canvas surrounding us.
The crunching of snow has us all snapping our heads to the left. Nothing. A flash of tan and black in my peripheral causes me to pivot to my right. Raelle must see it too because she unsheathes her sword, holding it steady in front of her. Her hair whips around her face as her eyes dart from one end of the vast expanse of land to the other.
When a chorus of wild growls erupts around us, Ashavee lowers her head to the ground. The fur along her spine rises, and she releases a low snarl.
A pack of wild animals in all shapes and colors appear on all sides. Seven sets of stares lock on us as they stalk forward, trapping us between them. This isn't normal—the mixture of wild cats, wolves, and bears. They are calculated, working together as a single unit. What we face isn't rabid animals. No, it's much worse. They are fast, strong, and intelligent. They are shifters.
I don't give them the chance to corner us, releasing a ball of flame. It shoots across the plain like lightning bolt and barrels into a lion. The animal is thrown backward. Their fur ignites, and the scent of burning hair clings to the chilled wind. They unleash an ear-piercing cry that joins the cacophony of threatening growls. Its cries morph into the screams of a person as its fur gives way to reveal a naked man. He rolls once in the show and his blistered body goes still.
"Don't let them trap us," I shout.
Greer nods and spurs her horse forward. A blast of water shoots across the battlefield, pounding into the chest of a massive cat. Ashavee follows suit, charges into the fight like she has spent her entire life waging wars. Ulric jumps off his horse and runs after her. He is nowhere near Ashavee when her sleek, black body collides with a wolf. They stumble to the ground, fighting to get their razor-sharp teeth around the other's neck.
Ulric is stopped in his tracks as a polar bear raises to it hind legs, arms held over its head. It stands taller than him, but he doesn't so much as flinch. He swings his sword at its stomach. Samson stomps back, bristling and thrashing his head. I jerk my attention from Ulric, not knowing if his blow lands true. The jade gaze of a snow leopard greets me in an invitation to battle. I leap from Samson's back, urging him into the center of the circle where he is the safest. The flame returns to my palm, flaring up until it burns bright. I sink my heels into the snow, one foot in front of the other, and prepare to launch my attack.
The leopard drops its head and sways its tail. Its beige and brown spotted fur ripples with the flexing of its powerful body. We hold each other's stare, and I steady my breathing. As if the tension between us snaps, we bolt forward and clash—teeth, claws, and fire. Flames burst from my fingertips. The leopard dodges my efforts and latches onto my forearm. The pointed tips of its teeth puncture my leather jacket and tear through my skin. I scream in pain as my inflamed fist connects with the side of the cat's head. It howls and releases my arm. My flames burn its fur, leaving a raw, angry mark below its ear. It flails its legs and its exposed claws slash across my chest.
The damage to my body is severe... the pain is all-consuming. I call to my fire, desperate for it to help me put an end to this. It sparks at my fingertips but doesn't rage to life. The precious seconds wasted on my gift are my doom. The leopard pounces, knocking me to my back. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, and I gasp for breath. My opponent presses its gigantic paw to my cheek, sinking my head into the snow and exposing my neck. I fumble to release my sword. A satisfied grumble leaves the leopard as it leans in. Its hot breath is a sharp contrast to the snow beneath me. I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare for the Allaji to rip out my throat.
A wicked roar rings in my ears and shakes my body. The weight holding me down disappears. I gulp down air and wrench my eyes open. Standing above me is my savior. Blood splatters dot her face, dancing with her freckles. Her cape billows around her as strands of her hair cling to her round cheeks. And in her hand, she holds a half leopard half human head by the hair. War and death have never looked so beautiful.
Raelle drops the head and crouches beside me. "Shit," she hisses, yanking open my jacket and pulling up my tunic. Her fingers brush over the bloody, raised scratches running from my chest to my abdomen.
"I'm fine," I croak, wincing as I sit up.
"You're not. Your arm is a mess."
I stand on quaking legs and take in the carnage around us. My friends are battered and winded, but they are alive. I take in Raelle. One scratch oozes blood on the top of her hand. Other than that, she is unharmed.
"We need to get out of here," I say.
"Your wounds need attention," she counters.
I ignore her and shuffle through the snow toward Samson. "I'll worry about that when we aren't sitting in the open." I raise my voice and say to the others, "Let's get going."
Raelle grumbles that I'm a stubborn asshole under her breath as she sheaths her soiled sword and climbs onto Nortus. I understand her worry. I'd feel the same way if our roles were reversed. But I refuse to leave us all as sitting targets while she tends to me. I've seen worse in battle, and I'll survive until we are somewhere safer.
*****
We've been riding for what feels like hours. I slouch in my saddle, gripping the reins with numb fingers and breathing through the sting of the scratches across my ribs. The cold has dulled the ache of the puncture wounds in my arm, but something is off. Sweat trails down my face, leaving cold streaks on my hot skin, and my vision is blurry around the edges. The sun, although hidden behind gray clouds, is high in the sky, yet I'm so very tired.
"Kyron!"
I wrench my eyes open at the sound of Raelle's terrified yell. Her hand lands on my shoulder, pushing me upright in my saddle.
"I'm all right. Keep moving," I say, my words like sandpaper in my throat.
"He needs to rest and have his wounds cleaned," she says, ignoring my demand.
I should put up a fight, pull rank. We are burning time we don't have, but the worry on Raelle's face stops me. She has been distracted, watching my very movement instead of concentrating on what's around us. I can't monopolize her time. Not now. Not when everything relies on her.
"There," Terro says, pointing to a mountainous cluster of rocks in the distance. "We should find somewhere to hide in there."
"Do you think you can make it?" Ulric asks, moving in on the other side of me.
I don't have the energy to speak, so I nod. It's a lie. I don't know how much longer I can hang on.
Greer leads the way while Ulric and Raelle keep pace at my side. We cross the barren land and slip between two massive boulders. The path before us is like a stone maze—twists and turns leading to nowhere. The further we travel, the taller the stone. It looms over us, blocking the wind but doing nothing to protect us from the rapidly dropping temperature. Teeth chattering joins the steady crunch of ice beneath the horses' hooves, ricocheting off the walls along the narrow path. The cold has frozen my sweat and the blood soaked into my tunic. My body is numb, and at the edge of my groggy thoughts lingers the fear of frostbite if I don't warm up soon.
We reach a cropping in the rocks big enough to comfortably fit us and the horses. An overhang of stone has protected the ground beneath from the snow, and a firepit rests in the middle with blackened logs. A neat pile of firewood rests beside it, as if the last traveler left it just for us. Nothing has ever looked so welcoming.
I don't give the others a chance to protest. I slide off Samson's saddle, and my knees buckle under my weight. Rocks dig into my palms as I hit the ground hard. My skin splits under the jagged edges, sending a searing pain up my arms. Greer jumps from her horse to help me up, but I shake her off and crawl to the back corner of the space.
"I just need to sleep it off," I grumble, dropping into a heap of trembling flesh and bones.
Greer rips the medic bag from the back of her horse and barks, "Terro and Ulric scout the perimeter and try to sweep away our trail leading into here." She turns to the shifter, who sits just outside our group, watching our every move. "Ashavee, I'll need your help to warm Kyron up until we can get a fire going."
The jaguar gracefully stands and steps around me. She lowers her sleek body next to mine, her soft coat pressed against my side. My icy fingers weave through her fur, pulling her closer. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale her scent.
"I need you to remove his jacket and shirt," Greer says, her voice muffled in my drowsy state.
The soft leather of Raelle's glove glides along the side of my face, and I moan at her touch. She brushes my hair back before pressing a kiss to my temple. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
I want to ask her what she has to apologize for, but the question comes out as nothing more than a groan. The answer is revealed to me soon enough. Raelle gently moves my arm and works my jacket down. The world around me ceases as pain traps me in its deadly grasp. Its inky fingers wind around my neck, stealing my breath and pulling me into its eternal nothingness.