I turn a look around the wood. Amid the flurries, I see eyes much like Neri’s, reflecting the snow light.
My mind races with thoughts of what to do. “If we get to the clearing, it will be easier for us to fight and easier for me to use the wood against them.”
He’s silent for too long, long enough for me to hear the grunts, stamping, and snorts increasing in loudness and closeness, making my pulse kick up a notch.
I know Neri doesn’t like this. His first thought is endearingly about my safety. But I remind him of one thing.
“I can take care of myself, wolf. Haven’t you seen me with a sword?”
“Yes. It’s a lovely, terrifying sight. But there are at least two dozen of these bastards, and I’d rather keep you whole than in pieces.”
“I feel the same about you,”I tell him honestly. “But it seems we’ll have to fight our way out of this whether you like it or not.”
An annoyed sigh leaves him as he begins moving again. “I’m preparing you now,”he says. “You haven’t seen me in my true wolf form. But at least I haven’t lost him. He’s raging inside me, sensing the threat. If they attack, I’m letting him out to play.”
Another chill prickles the back of my neck. I am but a witch in a forest with beasts.
The clearing comes into view too quickly, a pale circle illuminated by reflected moonlight. I try to keep my fear at bay, any thoughts of it suffocated under the line of consciousness Neri can only hear above. But my heartbeat pounds in my ears, and my breaths are coming so hard and fast that cold plumes surround me.
Neri stops us dead center of the clearing and swiftly slices his blade through the rope between us. I already loathe the idea of being untethered, but I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.
He faces me, his eyes on the surrounding wood, where dozens of glowing eyes come closer and closer, growing larger and larger.
“Put yourself in a cage,” he orders. “Then sit down, cover your ears, and close your eyes.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “Absolutely the fuck not. I’m fightingwithyou.”
His bright gaze settles on me, and everything about him suddenly changes. His broad shoulders and powerful arms—already so massive—only grow wider, stretching the seams of his leather until they groan against the strain. His human ears grow points, and his fangs are out too, though they grow longer and sharper, deadlier. Even his forehead begins to bulge, and his sharp cheekbones and nose start morphing into the snout of a wolf.
He drops his pack and passes his sword to me with a hand that soon won’t be a hand at all. The claws are already so long. Longer than normal. Like the blade on the hook scythe in my father’s secret room. They could slice someone open with one swipe.
When he speaks, I shiver at the power in the sound, the gravelly huskiness so low and deep I feel each word reverberate in my belly.
“My little bird needs a cage. Please. Just do it.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I tell him, as I have told him before.
But this time, his answer isn’t anything tender. This time, he bares his fangs and says, “You should be. I haven’t shifted in three centuries. I have no idea what this will be like for me. Sogo. Please, Nephele.”
I hesitate, and I almost refuse him, no matter what’s happening before my eyes. But then he stumbles back and roars at the sky, a cry of sheer agony that tears through the forest and cleaves my heart with his misery.
Arms outstretched and head thrown back, the beast that has been contained within Neri all this time bursts through his clothes, leaving them in shreds on the snow. Its chest swells and heaves as the bones contort. Throughout the struggle, he inhales great breaths of winter air, exhaling massive clouds that hover above us.
The Great Horns enter the clearing’s arena then, stamping and blowing. They look positively evil, their snarling mouths hanging open and dripping with saliva, lips drawn back over two long rows of razored teeth.
Neri was right. There are at least two dozen beasts, and they are enormous.
I don’t want to obey and protect myself, but Neri lifts his head and glares at me, a wolfish monster if there ever was one. When he howls, an unholy sound that splits the night, I tremble with true fear. Not for myself. But for him.
At his war cry, the Great Horns close in, stalking toward us with menace in every step. This cannot be my physical fight. They will slaughter me in moments, and Neri will go down trying to protect me.
But not all fights are physical.
I drop our swords and summon the wood. Fallen limbs crawl and skitter across the clearing, across the snow, and begin weaving a cage around me.
Before I can do anything to prevent it, a Great Horn bolts across the clearing in a blink and rams into the cage, destroying one side. Splintered pieces of wood fly by my face, one stabbing into my shoulder.
I stumble back, gripping branches to stay upright as the animal rears back and rams the wood again, almost reaching me with those deadly antlers. I meet its gaze. It looks wild. Crazed. Demented.
