There’s a horrible lurching sensation, like I’m falling. Water splashes around me. I open my eyes and find myself somewhere unrecognizable. I’ve landed in a vast lake in the middle of the woods. It’s dark, but lights hover on the shore, glowing like no torches I’ve seen before. There are all sorts of different sounds some distance away. Barking like dogs. People talking, their words jumbled together in a language I don’t know.
The wind blows, and a scent hits me.
Lyall.
On the shore, two figures huddle on a bench, locked in a tight embrace. One of them is Lyall; I know him by scent. Then the other must be… Arlo? My heart sinks. The torchlight over the bench flickers on. The man holding my brother has his face in Lyall’s shoulder. His hair is a fiery red.
There’s only one man I’ve known with hair of such a vibrant hue.
One man my brother would sneak off to meet and hold so tenderly under the cover of darkness.
Soren.
All this time, Lyall has been meeting with the traitor who brought hunters to our shores. How can he sit there and embrace the man responsible for our father’s murder?
Because of him, Bjorn and Leif—
Claws bite into my palms. Blood drips hot and wet between my fingers. My fur cloak writhes, devouring my flesh.
How could he?
Howdarehe?
It’s not enough Soren took away Father, Leif, Bjorn, and so many others.
Now, he conspires to take my brother from us.
No.
Never again.
Water splashes around my ankles, churning and cold.
Lyall’s on his feet, hands up, face pale. “Please. I can explain.”
No, there will be no talking.
“Youlied.” The words tear from my throat. “All this time, you fucking lied!”
He lied. He sat there and lied to our faces like a bloody craven, all so he could sneak around with the man who conspired to murder our father.
“Lyall, let’s go!” Soren grabs my brother’s shoulder but Lyall won’t move.
“Gunnar. Please. Sit down, we can talk about this. There’s so much you don’t know. Just listen—”
I know enough.
“You’ve been meeting with this traitor, all this time!” My roar sends birds flying from the trees. I want to snatch them out of the air, crunch their bones, break their little bodies in my teeth.
“It’s not like that!”
My shoes split around clawed feet. Linen tears across my chest.
How could he do this to me?
“He killed Leif. T-took my little Bjorn from me.” Oh gods, it hurts. My chest has been struck by a war hammer of pain, caving me in, breaking me open. Rage spills out, coloring my vision red.
“He was just a baby. Because ofhim,my family is gone!”
