“How do I stop it?” I ask, finally looking up at her.
“You can’t.” Helga leans forward. “But you can learn to control it. My family runs a school in Iceland called Skallagrim Academy. As far as most are concerned, it’s a place for troubled youth, but Skallagrim is actually a school for seiðr. We work to preserve the ancient magic and provide protection to its practitioners. At Skallagrim, you can be among other berserkir like yourself.”
My stomach sinks. That’s the last thing I want. I already had to get a new family, a new house, a new school, a newlife. The plastic cracks in my hand. I don’t want to have to do that all over again.
“I can make this all go away,” Helga says, “as long as you attend Skallagrim Academy.”
“How?” I ask. “Principal Matthews made it sound like my punishment was all but guaranteed. Not to mention that my foster parents will never agree. And what about Jason and all those witnesses—”
“I can be very…persuasivewhen necessary.”
The weight she puts on the word makes me queasy. “And if I refuse?”
“This will proceed to court. You’ll be expelled, maybe go to jail.” Helga pauses, looks me straight in the eye. “And then, someday, it will happen again. Or worse.”
I stare at the plastic shards by my feet. How many things did Dad break in his rages? I may not have sliced Jason with a knife, but Ididlet my anger get the best of me. I reacted physically in a way I couldn’t control or predict. Just like my dad.
What else could I be capable of?
When I say nothing, Helga continues. “We’re running out of time. The principal will be returning with the police any moment.” She glances at the door. “I’m going to need an answer, Edith. Now.”
I am not an animal, I want to insist, but the evidence that I am isright here in my hands. Whether I want to or not, I have to accept it, or else I might lose control and hurt someone less deserving than Jason.Like father, like daughter.
And I refuse to be like him.
“Fine,” I say, voice barely a whisper. “I’ll go to Skallagrim Academy.”
THREE WEEKS LATER
CHAPTER TWOAMUND
Be the predator or become the prey,I remind myself. It was Father’s first—and hardest—lesson. If I allow myself to forget it, I’m as good as dead. In the Wilds, only the strongest survive. Cold wind whips through the unforgiving landscape as our horses clop along. Father and I scan sporadic patches of grass for some sign of our quarry.
Instead, I spot a rib cage. A skull.
Bones litter the Wilds. Human bones.
The skull crumbles like chalk beneath my horse’s hooves as we continue ahead. Father warned me that many hunters are killed before they can return from the hunt. Other bones belong to outsiders who ventured too close to Skallagrim, ignorant of its dangers. The beasts protect our school from the outside world, but we must protect Skallagrim fromthem.
Sunlight spears through the far-off mountains. Sunrise is at 7:50, so it must be past eight. We’ve been tracking this injured wolf all night. Now that day is breaking, the wolves will soon retire. I envy them. Asexhausted as I am, I know better than to hope Father will call off the hunt and return to Skallagrim empty-handed.
Thank the gods it’s not a bear.
There.I halt my horse and slide down.
The beast’s paw print is much larger than my boot. I kneel and test the soil with a fingertip—still fresh. We’re close. I climb back on my horse quickly. Father moves into position beside me, his dark leather armor in sharp contrast to his pale horse. He gives a quick nod as he readies his silver blade.
We are no mere predators.
We are hunters.
We move swiftly through the Wilds, the sound of our horses’ hooves the only noise as we advance. In nature, quiet like this can mean only one thing: An apex predator is nearby. Raising his fist, Father stills.
A pack of massive wolves travels together in the distance, flashes of fur against the stark landscape. Too many to take on. There must be at least seven of them. These are no ordinary beasts. Berserkir are bigger than their animal counterparts. Their teeth are twice as large and their bite force far more powerful. Most weapons can’t harm them. Our hunting knives are strengthened with runes and honed from silver. It’s the only thing that can pierce their thick hides.
We steady our horses, waiting for the pack to pass. Even the strongest hunter like Father would stand no chance against a pack of berserkir. We pick them off one at a time by laying traps and snares throughout the Wilds, then finish them off after they’re injured.
There is no honor in our hunt.
