No answer.
I poked my head out of the tent. The moon shone bright against the black, starless sky. There was no sign of my traveling companion, but the hawk had plunged into one of Edan’s saddlebags. Now it flew away with a bright red pouch in its beak.
I started chasing after it, but the camels caught my attention. They pulled against their ropes, hooves kicking up sand. They were trying to flee, but from what?
I stilled. There was no sandstorm. And I didn’t hear any horses. Horses were afraid of camels, not the other way around.
Bandits? No—
I squinted, picking out a pack of moving shadows in the distance. My chest tightened.
Wolves.
They were close. I’d mistaken their howls for the wind. Demon’s breath, no wonder the camels were jittery! I staggered back, their screams drowning the thump of my racing heart.
My hands trembled as I dug through Edan’s trunks and satchel. Books, papers, pens, and more books. Amulets that were of no use to me. Did he not bring any weapons?
There! A dagger. I pulled it out but couldn’t get it free of the sheath.
No, no, no.
Tried again. Still wouldn’t budge.
Blood rushed to my ears. In desperation, I ran back into my tent and rummaged through my things. Silk, satin, linen. I couldn’t throw my blanket over a pack of wolves, or toss needles at them.
Then I saw my scissors.
I bit my lip. Edan was sure to scold me later for losing our camels, but I wouldn’t let them be eaten. I dashed out, snipped their reins, and slapped them on their rumps.
“Hut hut!” I cried. “Go!”
Our campfire was just embers now, so I couldn’t light a torch to scare off the wolves. And there was nowhere to run. I’d have to stay and fight.
All I had was the scissors. They glowed, and for once, I was thankful. I set them against my tent’s coarse muslin, and they snipped and cut, aiding me as I braided and knotted furiously, fashioning a sturdy rope. I tossed it over the tree and clambered up, each touch of the dry bark scraping my skin. The low growls behind me grew louder and louder.
And then the wolves were upon me. In the moonlight I saw their black fur and bloodshot eyes, hungry. There were five, no, six of them.
I swallowed a scream.There’s food in the tent, I wanted to tell them. Part of me pitied their lean, scraggly figures. But then their eyes set on me. I was the prize.
The first wolf pounced. It caught my rope in its gleaming jaws and pulled. I let the rope go, wrapping my arms around a branch. The pack leapt at my dangling legs. I screamed, kicking and trying to haul myself higher.
Above me, the hawk returned, Edan’s red pouch in its beak. Down it swooped to strike the biggest wolf.
The hawk retreated, only to dive again. This time it sliced the leader behind the ears with its talon, then thrust the red pouch into the beast’s jaws. The wolf’s fangs snapped shut on the hawk’s wing, but it was I who let out a scream.
The wolf swung its head violently as the hawk batted its free wing to escape. I wanted to help, but the rest of the pack was still waiting for me at the bottom of the tree.
Then something strange happened. The leader snarled and turned on its pack, as if it were possessed. It let go of the hawk and lunged, tearing into one of its brothers instead. Soon I was forgotten as the wolves fought one another. The sight was gruesome, blood on fur on sand. I buried my face in my hands until the snarls became whimpers, then nothing.
My head was still buried in my hands when the hawk returned, perching on the branch above me. The tip of its wing brushed across my back, and I looked up. Its feathers were ink black, wings tipped milky white, and its eyes a bright, gleaming yellow—and curiously familiar.
Exhausted, I wrapped my arms around the tree, and I slept.
• • •
“Maia!”
The sound of my name jolted me awake. I squinted, seeing Edan’s tall, lean shape below me. Milk’s and Snowfoot’s, too.
