It’s pointed at me.
Or Siggy.
Amara’s fire strikes the witch half a heartbeat later, the force of it wrenching an agonized scream from her, but it’s too late to stop what’s already been set in motion. The spear launches free, pushed by witch wind that sends it screaming through the air at an impossible speed. I pivot without thinking, putting myself between it and Siggy, preparing for a hit I know I can’t outrun.
Something flashes through the corner of my vision.
Fawn-colored fur, moving too fast to follow.
The sound lands before meaning does, a wrongness that bypasses my ears and sinks straight into my bones. Something hits the ground with enough force to knock the air from my lungs, even though I’m still standing.
I look down and freeze.
An ice spear is driven clean through a chest, and it takes a second too long for my mind to register the way it still rises and falls around it.
For a moment, everything else recedes. The noise becomes dull. The battle blurs, moving too slow and too fast all at once inmy periphery. It’s as if the world has paused to give me time to process what I’m looking at, time I don’t want or need because no amount of it will make this settle gently. When horror finally reaches me, it comes in a rush so sudden it leaves me lightheaded, my skin itching, my heart slamming against my ribs as if it’s trying to escape what I already know is coming.
Then sound snaps back into place and I’m moving, instinct taking over.
My wolf slips away without resistance as I fall back into my human body, the shift complete before I even realize it’s begun. I hit my knees hard, the cold ground biting into my skin, but the sensation barely breaks through. My hands lift and hover helplessly around the spear and the damage it’s inflicted. Fear roots me in place. I’m afraid to touch, afraid I’ll only cause more harm, or worse, that I won’t be able to make it better.
The fawn-colored fur melts, giving way to smooth skin.
There isn’t much blood.
Which looks deceptively like a blessing. It’s not. The ice is doing its job too well, sealing the wound even as it kills her from the inside. I know what that means. I know it in the same quiet place where all the worst truths live.
No,” I gasp, her name breaking out of me on a choked breath. “Rhosyn.”
She turns as far as the spear will let her, breath hitching with the effort, and her eyes find mine. The rich green in them is fading already, slipping away, and still, she manages a smile, small and barely holding its shape. It feels like an apology she doesn’t owe.
I don’t hesitate this time, my hand finds her chest, careful around the ice, and the other cups her face. Her skin already feels too cold.
“Why…” The word falls apart before I can finish it.Why would you do this? Why would you jump in front of that? Why would you choose me?
I already know the answer to all of it because I tried to do the same for Siggy.
“I’m going to fix this,” I tell her instead, forcing steadiness into my voice even as panic claws up my throat. “Okay? I can fix it.”
The lie tastes bitter, but I cling to it anyway.
Somewhere behind me, I register movement. Siggy shifts back, sobbing quietly, and Amara’s coven closes ranks with the Fallamhain wolves forming a protective ring around us. In the corner of my eyes, I see Juno’s lithe frame join them. The sounds—claws, magic, screams—fade into something muffled and far away, like they’re echoes from another world entirely.
“It’s…okay,” Rhosyn tries to say, but her assurance splits apart as she coughs. Blood spills over her lips and chin, dark against skin already going too pale beneath the green light.
I barely manage to smother my gasp before wiping it away with trembling fingers, smearing red over skin that’s already gone far too pale. “Hey. Hey. You’re right. It’s going to be okay,” I insist, the words coming faster now because the alternative is unthinkable. “I’ve got you, Rhosyn. I’ve got you.”
Siggy takes a position on the other side. She’s crying silently, shoulders shaking with her broken arm cradled protectively against her chest.
“Sig,” I choke out. “The first aid kits. The ones we placed around the territory. Are there any close by?”
She blinks hard, trying to think through the shock. “I think…I think there’s one up the road,” she manages, but her face crumbles a moment later. “But, Noa, it’s on the other side of the ward. I can’t get to it. Maybe I can get to another one, it’s just farther away.”
My heart slams against my ribs as the sense of helplessness settles deeper with every beat. The copper smell in the air is getting stronger. Rhosyn’s breathing is shallower now, each breath more effort than the last.
If we have any hope of helping her, we need?—
“No,” Rhosyn croaks. “You can’t go. It’s not…safe.”
