Blood seeps into the ground around the snow tiger’s body and stains his white fur. His eyes stay open, glassy and cold, and he dies in his animal form—the choice of all weres at their end, as far as I know.
My nostrils flare as I stare at the dead werebeast, my ears pricked for any sign of those who fled. Most weres aren’t raiders and live peacefully in Wyndwood or in other places, especially Torridaig. The Muirvale weres would love to live peacefully in their chosen territory, too, but fanatics like this one have been making that impossible for years.
“Idallia!” Fyrestar’s warning explodes in my mind.
I whirl, lifting my blades on reflex. My warbird shoots over my head, breathing fire at a huge weretiger who springs out of the woods. The weretiger knocks me over, her fresh, phoenix-fire burns heating my skin. I hit the ground on my back, my swords crossed between us, and her weight almost buckling my arms. Before she can overpower me, I slash up and outward with both blades, drawing blood that splatters my face, but not severing her neck deeply enough to kill. Fyrestar zooms back around and slams into the snow tiger from the side, shoving her off me and sending the two of them tumbling across the ground.
I jump up, and for a moment, there’s a battle of talons and claws, then they crash into a tree with Fyrestar pinned between the weretiger and the trunk. The were’s huge jaws clamp down on Fyrestar’s thigh with a sickening pop of feathers and flesh. I gasp as Fyrestar squawks in pain, and his inner fire surges to the surface. Leaping forward, I attack, stabbing deep into the weretiger’s shoulder, twisting my blade, and yanking it up. My bird flames so violently from every feather that the werebeast abruptly spits him out and slinks away.
Blood streams down the were’s bulky shoulder and strong leg. She limps sideways, her agitated gaze bouncing from me to Fyrestar and back. The child she was holding captive before she fully shifted runs to join the little girl we already freed.
I see them out of the corner of my eye, both so shaky and scared that they’ve shifted into odd, unintended half forms. Whiskers, clumps of fur, and animal ears poke out of their heads. If this is their first transformation, I fear it may traumatize them for life. Weres have been known to repress their animal skins if shifting makes them feel unsafe.
I sense increasing danger before I see or hear anything new. My blood goes cold, the way it does sometimes in warning. A chill bursts across the back of my neck, and a waiting silence fills me, as if even my own pulse doesn’t beat anymore. My suddenly heightened senses tingle with the knowledge that we are absolutely not alone.
“Fyrestar, can you fly?” I ask quietly.
“I’m injured, not incapacitated.”
He sounds offended, which wasn’t my intent. Maybe he’s just on edge, like I am, because he knows something bad is about to happen.
The enemy group emerges from the woods, and my heart drops like lead through my chest. They’ve doubled their already significant number with other werebeasts they must’ve gathered in the woods. There’s not a single little leithrat or delicate fox among them. They’re all wolves, bears, and snow tigers. Huge, lethal, and spitting mad.
“Can you fly with two werechildren?” I whisper, getting the children behind me and angling them toward a tree. I don’t see the third child anywhere, and my gut tightens with worry. A dozen massive opponents and a missing kidnapping victim was not how I envisioned this going. And now Fyrestar is hurt, which worries me most of all.
Fyrestar’s golden eyes cut to mine, their fiery glow lighting the dusk-dark forest. “And you—difficult.”
I don’t say to leave me behind. Fyrestar will sacrifice those kids for me if he has to, and I don’t bother pretending, even to myself, that I wouldn’t do the same for him.
“We can call for help,” he suggests.
I press my lips together. I don’t want to—I never do—but more than that, I want my warbird and these kids to make it out of this without any more damage—physical or otherwise.
I nod, my focus on our enemies as I prepare to shield Fyrestar and the children. The werebeasts stalk me, predators to the core. They move slowly, low to the ground, watching. They’ll stay that way, waiting, half-crawling, until erupting in a sudden surge.
Behind me, Fyrestar starts drumming his wings, rotating them back and forth so quickly that a low, deep thumping fills the woods along with a rising billow of heat from him.
In mere seconds, the distant roaring of dragon shifters fills the forest. The team’s answering calls are too far away for comfort, but at least they heard us and can determine a direction.
I urge the kids to fade into the trees as the werebeasts creep closer. Fyrestar moves forward until we’re back-to-back, the weres surrounding us. We slowly circle, keeping them guessing at how best to attack. My goal is to hold them off until the team gets here, and antagonizing the enemy usually keeps them talking instead of striking.
Sneering at the gigantic werebear facing me, I keep my feet moving and my muscles warm. “You could really use a bath and a brushing—I’ve never seen a pelt so filthy. Since you’re clearly someone’s pet, you should really get your master to take better care of you.”
His beady eyes narrow, and his words grate in my head. “I have no master.”
“Oh, so you’re in charge of the kidnappers? Lucky me.” I chuckle dryly. “I’ve met the mastermind behind the whole faction.”
He doesn’t answer. He’s definitely not the mastermind, but he doesn’t like being called someone’s pet, either.
“I’ve heard that bears secretly have the hots for little foxes. Is it true? Seems like a bad deal for the foxes.” I haven’t heard anything of the sort. I just want to keep him talking.
“We don’t interbreed. Everyone knows that.”
“It’s not necessarily about breeding,” I shoot back. “I’m pretty sure the parts are compatible.”
He growls. “Maybe we’ll see how compatible our parts are once I pin you down and hold your neck between my teeth.”
I give him a scathing look, and I mean every burning bit of it. “Maybe we’ll see how fast I can kill you. I’m really good at it.”
