Ronan’s breath snagged. “What the fuck…”
The wolf snapped its head up at the sound.
“Go,” she whispered to it, in the same ancient tongue.
It snarled once, then obeyed, bounding back into the trees, disappearing into the dark with a crash of branches. Once it had vanished, Verena turned to Ronan, her eyes darting.
Like she was lost, trying to find her way back.
“She’s alive,” she said hoarsely, motioning to the woman unmoving on the ground.
Ronan approached, a black shroud sliding over his skin unintentionally as he stood beside her, studying her face. “What did you say to it?”
She blinked, dazed. “I don’t know.”
But she did. And so did he.
They walked back to the forest in silence, boots sinking into the soil. The threat had passed, but the air still smelled of warning and blood.
Ronan kept a half step behind, jaw locked, smoke coiling from his palms despite every effort to stay calm. Verena strolled ahead, her hair tangled, her armor smeared with mud and something darker.
Killian waited where the forest broke, his eyes trailing over her, then glancing to Ronan.
“You’re good?” he asked, looking back at Verena.
“Unfortunately,” Ronan muttered, striding by them.
Killian’s mouth curved, but his concern lingered as Verena brushed past him without answering, toward the firelight.
At the camp’s edge, Elysian stood rigid, white fur still stroking his neck. The others had gathered, all watching as they returned.
Callum shot up from the fire, running a hand through his hair as he looked between Verena and Ronan. “What happened?”
Ronan tossed his jacket to the ground, the leather still covered in smoke. “A direwolf. Must have come out of the northern part of the forest. It attacked a villager.”
Nezra’s brow arched. “Impossible. They never travel this far south.”
“Tell that to the villagers,” Ronan said, grabbing his canteen and throwing himself as far away from the fire as he could. “One was harmed, but she’ll live. She’s with their healer.”
Callum’s stare cut to Verena. “And you?”
She gave a careless shrug, wiping dirt from her hands. “Fine. Mostly irritated.”
“I can imagine,” Ford mumbled. “You chased awolf.”
“I stopped it,” she corrected, falling against a tree beside Gus.
He high-fived her before handing her a feather that looked to be from a skyhorn—a giant bird with antler-like crests. She marveled at the gift and blew him a kiss before securing it in her pocket.
Huffing a sound that might have been a laugh, Ronan leaned back against the tree next to hers, folding his arms as if that might cage his temper.
“Youtalkedto it.”
Everyone stilled. Her eyes flashed to him as she pushed off the trunk into the air, creeping closer to Ronan. “You’re just upset it listened.”
He leaned in. “If you ever pull something like that again—”
“You’ll what?” she dared.
