My chest should be heaving, but I’m completely calm.
Blood drips from my fingertips. The wetness across my cheeks tells me blood is splattered across the exposed parts of my face and undoubtedly in my hair.
All of the rain may have evaporated from the ash beneath my feet, but the snowy surface is no longer white.
Human blood taints it now. For the first time in ten years.
My heart should be cracking, but it isn’t.
I should regret what I’ve done, but I don’t.
Even if I wanted to… Ican’t.
I can’t feel anything except the sensations that my physical senses detect: the honeyed air mingling with wood smoke; the way my boots sink a little into the ashen ground; the pain in my left shoulder continuing to beat down to the medallion in my hand.
I turn my palm over.
I never would have chosen this.
The humans did this. This is of their making.
With a snarl, I hurry back to the Vandawolf. He’s still breathing and that’s all that matters.
I push the stretcher onto the ground and reach for him, my fingers leaving smears of blood on everything I touch.
With every breath I take, I’m transported back to the moment I first saw him.
He had towered over me, his bare chest splattered with blood, his pants torn, and his breathing harsh. The strands of his hair had fallen across his eyes, the gore so thick that I couldn’t see what color the strands were or discern the parts of his face that had become wolf from those that were still human.
To me, he was the beast my people created.
I didn’t see then that we were connected.
Now we are. Irrevocably.
Just as Malak created the Vandawolf, the humans have forged me, their own worst enemy.
Iam the beast now.
Chapter6
Smoke fills my chest, burning my insides as I hurry as quickly as I can across the wasteland toward the Sunken Bog, dragging the stretcher behind me. The mask I’m wearing is a poor barrier against the intensity of the fumes now.
I lifted the Vandawolf onto the stretcher and used the men’s clothing as straps to tie him in—multiple pairs of long pants and shirts knotted together and wrapped around his chest, hips, and legs. I also wrapped some of their shirt material around my hands to give me enough traction against the smooth, onyx poles to pull the stretcher along.
I took several of the men’s flannel masks so I could switch them out as I need to, wrapping one around the Vandawolf’s face. It wasn’t an easy task while using only my right hand and my teeth, since I need to keep my left hand away from him as much as possible.
I can’t transform my medallion into any sort of weapon now, so I retrieved two of the fallen axes and hooked them to either side of my belt, one of them now sitting alongside my hammer. I considered looking for the Vandawolf’s daggers but didn’t want to waste time on that task. I also considered hammering the discarded crossbow bolt into weapons, but it would have taken too long and drawn more humans to my location.
Even as I was tying the Vandawolf to the stretcher, Braddock, Nero, and Vincent were calling down from the wall, demanding to know what was going on.
I worked quietly and left while the smoke cover still concealed me.
Tremors continue to run through the Vandawolf’s body, but I harden my heart against the pain he must be feeling.
He’s alive and I will keep him that way.
When I reach the edge of the wasteland, about to step into the Sunken Bog, I risk one last look behind me at the city.
