The first cage contains just one bat, and I pause at how small and fluffy it looks, the edges of its wings tufted up with soft fur that I hadn’t noticed on the larger ones.
“I call this one ‘Ingrid,’” Roman says, reaching out to unlatch the door to the head-high cage.
My protest dies on my lips as the bat, which has to be a baby judging by the small length of it, flaps a few times before hopping across the bars to land on Roman’s outstretched hand.
I find myself pressing closer, momentarily drawn to the tiny creature. “What’s wrong with it?”
Roman slides his arm out gently, taking care not to upset the bat. “Theglatinateare a family-oriented species. They live in large dens with mostly females and their young. Ingrid’s den was infiltrated by a tentacle moss pod. Most escaped, but her mother was killed, and Ingrid’s wing was injured. I got there in time to stop the pod from taking her too. I’ve been trying to heal her wing ever since.”
Ingrid’s two huge eyes peer up at me as Roman’s arm extends between us, and no lie, the baby face of this bat… uh,glatinate… is so damn cute that I find myself reaching for it.
As my fingers brush the tufts of fur on either side of her head, I prepare myself for pain and burning, but she snuggles against my palm, making a small purring noise in her chest.
“She likes you,” Roman says.
Before I can reply, Ingrid hops off his forearm in one jump and lands on my shoulder.
My heart jumps when her claws briefly pinch my shoulder as they find traction and dig in, but then her weight settles, not heavy at all, and she rests on me like a parrot.
My wolves press closer around my legs, sniffing at the air around her, but they seem more curious than aggressive now, and I guess they’re also on a journey of discovery with me.
“All of the bats who attacked us yesterday,” I begin slowly. “Did you check to make sure there were no babies left behind?”
Five seconds with Ingrid and I want to kill Crone more than ever. How could she use these creatures against their will? Reaper and I killed so many of them, and Roman finished the job. None of that should have happened.
“I haven’t had a chance. You’re my priority,” he replies. “But you should get some rest again soon, and when you do, I’ll scout around.”
I want to go with him, but the entire point of remaining here in the Wilds is to build up my strength and learn how to control and use my power. Scouting back into the Forbidden Lands, with all its dangers, invites more injuries.
Ingrid remains on my shoulder as we continue around the rest of the building and Roman introduces me to many species I haven’t encountered before. Along with bats, the cages also hold golden bird-like creatures that stand three feet tall and have dagger-like beaks. Roman tells me they use their beaks to pierce their prey and suck the blood and muscles out until only a husk of skin and bones remains.
“Um… That’s actually quite disturbing,” I say. I avoid looking too long at their beaks as they appear to eye me off as a large blood bag.
Roman laughs, seeming at home with all of these murderous animals. Though when compared to the demons in the city, I’ll take the Wilds any day.
Once we reach the back of the shed, Roman leads us through the wide back door and toward a tree-lined paddock, which stretches into the distance.
Two horses graze off to the right, but the third catches my eye, her silver pearlescent coat gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. She nickers, but not in a welcoming way, and paws at the ground as soon as she sees us. She’s the first of the animals that looks like she wants to take my head off—after the blood-sucking birds, that is.
“She’s a wild beast,” Roman says when we rest our arms on the fence. “I call her ‘Wild Girl’ because no other name seems to suit.”
The other two horses walk over for pats, but Wild Girl remains off at the side, pawing at the ground and making huffing sounds like she’s pissed off with life.
“Her leg was hurt when I found her. I got her back here safely enough, and she’s almost healed, but even now, she tries to kick me to death at every opportunity,” Roman says.
“Who looks after all of these creatures when you need to leave?” I ask.
Roman gestures to the fence and then back to the ceiling of the shed. Following his line of sight, I’m careful not to unbalance Ingrid, who appears to be sleeping—if the small, even huffs next to my cheek are any indication.
A string of violet and crimson runes decorates the paddock fence as well as the part of the shed’s ceiling that I can see from my present position. The runes are all interconnected, a continuous stream of magical inscriptions.
“I’ve made sure this place is self-sufficient,” Roman tells me, his hand lifting to follow the lines of the nearest rune on the fence. “This is a combination of multiple runes that take care of temperature, shelter, security, and regular feeding times, as well as continuing the overall healing of each creature. I don’t have to be here for everything to run smoothly, but I do need to come back and check on them.”
Wild Girl stomps her foot, drawing my attention back to her. The energy shimmering around her reminds me of Reaper—strong, independent, but also deadly.
Roman hasn’t mentioned whether or not he saw or sensed that Reaper was with me when he arrived in the Forbidden Lands, but I’m sure he can’t have missed her. I feel like I can trust him enough to ask for more information about her now.
“I met a demon wolf out there,” I tell him quietly. “She was huge, far bigger than Ace. She had black fur and purple eyes like my wolves do, but one of her eyes was cut across by three claw marks. Now that you’ve told me that demon wolves are rare… I guess I’m wondering if you know anything about her?”
