NEIRIN
My monster fearedconfinement as much as I did. It was one of the few things we shared in common. Panic seeped through the bond that connected us, raw and unrestricted. He raked at the leathers. Whimpering, he backed up, claws digging in. Cool air rushed in, filling his lungs, and we were free. The creature stepped back, its ears perked, listening. In the distance, a nightingale sang. Then its melody faded, an unrequited love song.
The intake of sounds was always overwhelming in the initial moments after a shift. Each rustle of leaves and movement of small creatures in the brush could be heard with stark clarity. My monster sniffed. Nearby, a hare nested with early kits. The milky warmth of her scent made him salivate, but my monster’s unease was more pressing than his hunger.
The scent of humans came on the wind, carried from the west. The creature’s lips rose in a snarl, and he huffed through his nose, trying to clear the reek. They smelled not of the woods. Unnatural. Like a sickness, something to be avoided.
He turned from the castle and trotted through the trees. His steps were light as he treaded over uneven earth and leapt effortlessly over obstacles. I had no knowledge of his intentionsor connection with his thoughts beyond the primal emotions that trickled through the bond. Instinct drove him, ancient wisdom untaught yet known.
In this form, I was only a passenger trapped within fur and flesh. I could feel the earth press cold beneath the pads of his paws, the damp tang of soil and bark in my nose. Yet, the body was not mine, not truly. And with every shift, he held on longer. If nothing else, the calm of the forest gave me a moment to feel, to sort through suppressed emotions and consider what lay ahead.
Kaius was dead. The knowing hollowed me out, left me with a distinct void—not grief, not really, but the ache of missing a piece of something I'd never truly had. Harlan, however, would mourn. Our father had played some role in his life. They’d hadsomething.
And though he would receive counsel, Harlan was not ready to take Kaius’s place. The consult of men who believed they held power could be poisonous. Harlan hadn’t the wits or cunning to sort truth from persuasions and lies from ambition.
Beneath all else, there was the comprehension that something dark lurked within the castle walls. Someone who held power and the trust of the royal family planned to misuse it. Someone strategic, patient. There was a very real possibility they would turn my brother into their next target.
A breeze caught the creature’s fur, and he raised his head. Moonlight dappled through the branches overhead, painting the forest in shades of gray. In this form, the leaves were a pale, muddied yellow. The contrast of between my monster’s calm and the chaos likely occurring within the walls seemed almost diametric. He existed in a world outside of all I knew—outside of all that mattered with such pressing importance—in a place where everything moved more slowly, driven wholly by instinct.Nothing existed for him but base needs and awareness of the moment.
As we drew near the river, the scent of rushing water came to the forefront of our senses. The creature stopped at the river’s edge, where a steep drop plummeted to the writhing black current below. My monster snorted, and I sensed his frustration through the bond. He followed the river south for some time until we came upon a spot where the earth sloped more gradually to the water’s edge. His steps scattered loose dirt and small stones as he maneuvered down the bank. With a curled, lapping tongue, he scooped water into his mouth, crisp and fresh.
A breeze blew in from the east and ruffled the creature’s mottled coat. He raised his head to the sky, the fur on his chin wet. Not far off, the rolling of wagons along the main road could be heard. My monster was uninterested in humans, their carts, or the creatures that pulled them. Just as he gave no care for the sack of silver coins in the pocket of my jacket, which he’d left at the hatch door. A scent, however, caught his attention. It eluded me, itching at me like a word forgotten and just out of grasp. I knew it, yet I couldn’t place it.
My monster followed the sound of the wagons until he broke through the tree line. The tall grasses of the meadow rose above his head and brushed his whiskers and flanks as he pushed forward. With a short leap, he mounted a low boulder, able to see now the winding road and the several dozen carriages traveling south along it.
The creature raised his nose and pinned his ears back, drawing the scent deep into his lungs. He keened, his song sad and hollow, not entirely unlike that of a nightingale’s. Wind buffeted his fur, and he squinted.
Though he feared man, with a bunching of his haunches, he leapt from the stone and prioritized urge over instinct, the drawof the unknown scent too alluring to dismiss. He cleared the distance to the wagons with hastened speed and broke through the grass, skidding to a halt in the road when a horse’s hooves came too close. His paws slid out from under him, and he fell sideways in a cloud of dust. Unbridled panic and the searing need to flee pulsed through the bond. He righted himself and stepped backward into the safety of the grass, tongue lolling.
The wagon wheels rolled by, pulled by horses who nickered uneasily, aware of the creature’s presence. My monster lowered to his belly, heart thundering in his chest at a rate four times that of a man’s.
The scent came again, this time stronger. When it filled his lungs, it stole all my focus. In a wave of clarity, my mind flitted back to the gatehouse. Heat, need, and belonging had consumed me, my face buried in the woman’s neck. I had bitten her, claimed her, and breathed her scent.
He’d found her.Why?
My monster shot from the shelter of the grass. Ears flattened as he dodged hooves and swiveled his head to shouts and voices, he sought the source of her scent. Stilling at the side of the path momentarily, he perked his ears and, with rapt determination, raced forward and leapt, claws scraping at the back of a wagon.
Just as he gained leverage and readied to land his paws in the back, the wagon lurched, tossing him forward. He fell heavily against the cargo. The collision knocked the wind from his lungs, and his body quivered. The rawness of fear seared through the bond.
A male voice came from the front of the wagon: “What was that?”
My monster pinned his ears. He sought to right himself but immediately fell again as the wagon bumped over the uneven road. He panted, his flanks quivering.
“Thatwould be the effect of forgetting rope.” The woman’s response was a flat, quipped retort.
The man grunted.
My monster remained low, hidden, and breathed in their scents. All creatures had a unique mark that told of their heritage and genetics; humans were no exception to this. The two who shared the wagon were not full siblings but half. The woman smelled of me, too, from the seed I’d left in her. Beneath these markers, I detected the pleasant earthy smell of plants, like the waking of spring. All these things made up her unique scent, who she was. It ingrained itself in my mind, my soul.
Though his heart still raced, my monster was settling, his fear less potent. I wondered if she soothed him as she did me. My thoughts went to the first time I saw her at the bar, how she’d pulled me from the depths of my thoughts in a single breath. The implications were out of reach, but I knew with certainty that she meant something to us.
The woman didn’t speak again, and after some time, the wagon’s motions became rhythmic. The passing of time was lost on me. Whether my monster slept, I was unsure. There were fragmented memories of crossing a bridge, of horses in a pasture raising their heads and nickering as we passed, but the events were all out of place, lacking order.
The sun began to rise, painting the horizon a muted yellow, one of the few colors perceivable in this form. There was a lack of beauty to the scene before me, a dullness. My monster’s head lay heavy on his paws, and his eyelids fluttered lazily. Warmth seeped over me as the first rays of the sun bathed his pelt, and my thoughts turned to the woman. How did the sunrise look through her eyes?
12
EVERA
