Page 53 of Dark Dragon’s Wolf

She began to hear faint cries for help, and then she was in the misty white hallway, the cells blurry, filled with memories and projections. Beside her was a white wolf. Tristan.

We protect you, he said. We kill for you, die for you.

She rested her hand on his neck. She could feel him, like they had physical bodies—warm and solid, his fur soft, and his muscles rippling underneath. He looked up, his eyes bright gold, and grinned a wolfy grin at her, his huge teeth gleaming.

Nobody’s dying today, she told him.

But now came the harder part. She had find her way to the here and now, like Kira had showed her.

Mayah closed her eyes again, and listened. There they were. She reached out with her mind, to where they were, and just… went.

She opened her eyes to see the white-tiled corridor again, sharp and clear. The cells filled with real people.

They were in.

The lights had been dimmed, taking the edge off the harsh glare of bare bulbs on white tile. The prisoners lay on thin mattresses on the floor. They were almost all asleep, although here and there she saw the gleam of eyes.

No one seemed to see her.

She touched the amulet around her neck, and immediately she could see the wards protecting the place.

Tristan spoke in her mind. The first thing we need to do is confirm the prisoner count. Then we need to…

Shh, wait, Mayah said. She’d walked a bit further up the hallway, where a young woman about her own age was alone in a cell. She sat on the mattress, her knees pulled up, forehead resting on them.

Her dirty blond, shoulder-length hair looked like it had been chopped off with a blunt knife, and she was singing a song, very softly, over and over.

Something about the song called to Mayah. She went right up to the glass, listening.

The words sent a chill down her spine.

White fur, black wings

Dragonwolf will fly

Fire from the lost ones

Coming from the sky

Dragonwolf, dragonwolf

Ghosts through the walls

Fly away, fly away, fly away all

“Hello?” she called softly, not knowing if the woman could hear her.

But she looked up at once, startled. Her eyes were churning gold, big and wide. They got wider when she saw Mayah.

She had bruises on her face, and a smear of blood beneath her nose, as if she’d had a nosebleed and wiped it away.

How many other bruises and cuts did she have on her?

The woman’s eyes lit on Tristan, and she gasped sharply. “Who is that?” Her gaze returned to Mayah, awe creeping into her face. “It’s you,” she breathed. “The dragon. And the wolf. Dragonwolf.”

Mayah put a finger to her lips. “Can anyone hear you talking?”

The girl gave a short nod, almost imperceptible. Then she flicked her glance to the corner of her cell, up near the ceiling.