“Good girl.”
“What?”Branson is next to me and takes in the situation.“The knife, thank goodness.”
I rage at the coyote and knock him from the carriage.I fall with him and in a roll of fur, teeth, and claws, we collide with the frozen ground.He’s fading fast with blood spurting from his chest and his eyes glazing.Branson locks onto his neck, his large teeth sinking deep into the arteries and veins there.This coyote is on his last seconds of life.
With my mouth I twist the knife, making sure it does its job.The stench of his blood is bitter and rotten.This infected creature is done for.No saving him.And he’s hot.Burning up.The madness has well and truly taken him.Death is the kindest option.
Branson finishes him off by puncturing his carotid.The creature jolts in a death spasm and then slumps.
I raise my head, breathing fast, and look at Branson.My young lover is a killer, the same way I am.And we’ve done our job.
“The carriage.”Branson looks over my shoulder.“We have to stop it!”
He springs away.
I look at the dead coyote.He’ll be a liability if a human finds him like this.
But then I sense more shifters approaching.Lots of them.Members of every clan rushing ever closer from the direction of the park’s meadow.They have come together in this moment of need.Old rivalries forgotten, hatred and revenge unbound and reformed as unity.
I race after Branson.The alphas will be all over the coyote in seconds and it will be their problem, not mine.We’ve done our bit.
My problem, right now, is the fact that the woman I love—yes,love—is hurtling out of control through the park.Princess is fast—lightning fast—and both Branson and I struggle to gain on her.
But then I see her slow, only a little at first, a calmer pace with less snorting and less panic within the clatter of her hooves.
“I think Maisey has control of her,”Branson says.
“Yes.”
The carriage comes to a halt on the bend that leads down to the bridge where I first caught Maisey’s scent.She slips to the ground and rushes to Princess’s head.I can see from a distance her actions are gentle and soothing.
“I think she’s okay,”Branson says.“Thank goodness.”
I agree with him but I won’t be convinced until I check her over myself.
She is looking straight at us but it takes a moment before she spots us in the darkness.When she does her face becomes softer and the tension in her shoulders drops.
Branson shifts, mid-run, show off, and approaches her with his arms outstretched.He clasps her to him, his arms locked around her in a way that tells me he loves her as much as I do.
I stop, shift, and then hold them both close.“Are you okay?”I ask into her ear.
“I am now.”There’s a shake in her voice.“Is he ...is he dead?The infected coyote?”
“Yes.”
“The knife?”
“That certainly made our job easier,” Branson said.“You did good.”
“I did what I had to do.”Her voice holds steely resolve.I’m glad she doesn’t regret her kill.
I wipe at a smear of blood on her cheek.“Are you’re okay?”
“Yes.But what about Harvey?”Her eyes are wide as she looks between the two of us.“How is he?The coyote came out of nowhere.He just dropped from the sky, or so it seemed.”
“Harvey took a tumble but he’ll be okay,” I say.“And he will be grateful that you have Princess with you safe and sound, he loves that horse.”
She releases me to stroke Princess’s neck.“She is a good horse and...”
