The trees thicken. The trail narrows. Brimstone charges forward, swift and sure, dodging low branches and ducking through brambles as my heart thunders in time with his hooves.
The sound grows louder. Closer.
Finally, we break through the last thicket into a sun-drenched clearing by the riverbend, and I see her.
Her coat is the deep, muted black of old coal, soft, smoky, and ghosted with ash. Dusty golden markings stretch along her flanks in curved, uneven lines that almost resemble wings mid-beat, like some forgotten god etched them there with sunlight and smoke. Her mane is as pale as moonlight, wild and tangled with burrs. And her eyes—those magnificent eyes—still hold the storm-touched sharpness of something untamed.
She isn’t just fast. She flies across the earth like she remembers something the sky forgot.
“Ashwing!”
Chapter 22
Wolves
Ashwing. My mare. She’s here. She’s really here!
I slide from Brimstone’s saddle, heart thundering, and whisper her name as I move slowly toward her.
She stands near the moss-lined bank of a shallow stream, her flanks heaving, her legs trembling. Her once-sleek coat is dusted in dirt and steaming with sweat, but I’d know her anywhere. The deep coal-gray of her body. The dusty golden patches that curve along her sides like winged shadows. She’s thinner, hungrier, her belly stretched tight with foal, but her bright amber eyes meet mine with recognition.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
“Oh, girl,” I murmur, my voice catching as I take off my vest and drape it gently across her neck. “You found your way back to me.”
Her breath shudders. She leans into my touch, making the tiniest of nickers. I didn’t know I could miss a sound so much.
A voice calls behind me, closer than I expect. “Fire! Are you alright?”
I look up to see Keiren standing at the edge of the woods, just inside the tree line. The moment he sees Ashwing, his expression shifts to something between awe and wariness.
“I’m fine,” I say, then grab her by her mane—which, as usual, is tangled with countless brambles and pieces of branches, undoubtedly collected during her trek up the mountain. Stars, how long it must’ve taken her to get here, to find me.
I quickly check her for injuries but find none, just hooves much in need of a farrier. I gently nudge her along, holding Brimstone’s reins in my other hand as the three of us make our way back toward Keiren.
We make it no more than ten paces before Ashwing lets out a long, strained groan and collapses to her knees.
“No, no, no—Come on, Ashwing, not here…” I drop to her side, cradling her head as she stretches her neck and whimpers low in her throat.
Keiren takes a half-step forward, stopping just short of the clearing. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s foaling.” I swallow hard.
Another sharp cry escapes Ashwing’s throat, and her whole body tightens. A heartbeat later, another unmistakable howl splits the silence, then another.
Wolves.
“Come on, girl!” I urge her, panic rising in my chest. “We need to move—”
Keiren’s voice slices through the air like a blade. “Leave her. Get back to the forest. Now!”
“No!” I shout, shaking my head, still crouched low beside my mare. “I’m not leaving you,” I insist, gently stroking my mare’s beautiful head.
More howls ring through the air, closer this time. No doubt they can smell the blood and amniotic fluid from my sweet girl as she struggles to bring her baby into the world. I can only pray that the birth is quick and that I can usher her and her foal to the safety of the tree line. I’ll carry the foal myself if I have to.
Keiren’s voice sharpens, a thunderclap of warning. “Fire—you don’t understand. That clearing is beyond my reach. I can’t protect you out there.”
I glance toward him. He’s still standing just within the forest’s edge, fists clenched, every muscle straining as he forces himself not to cross the invisible line.
