Page 11

A human this deep in the forest needs watching. I stopped beneath the low branches to see what he was waiting for.

Another bolt cuts through the bracken ahead, low enough to take my legs. I jump it and land running, my back paws skidding on loose needles.

The birds had stopped. I’d been watching the man too hard to hear it.

Two more rise beyond the ferns, crossbows already against their shoulders. Both aim at the gap beneath the branches where I stopped.

One shouts, pointing past his companion, and I follow his hand.

Shit. There’s a fourth man above the trail home.

I bank downhill instead, away from the split birch and my brother. A shooter swings after me, but a trunk blocks him, and I put another between us while he moves.

They’re all human. I can outrun them if I get clear of the bolts.

Keer is still there through the bond, with Axan close enough to reach. I hold my own sending shut, harder than I did leaving home.

If they feel this, they’ll come straight down that trail.

The Wardens have the whole approach covered. Tomorrow night’s new moon will trap us all in wolf form, and Keer won’t abandon a search because darkness is coming. Neither will Axan.

I can get out of here on four legs. I keep them moving.

Behind me, boots strike hard ground, and a man calls to the others. They’re following downhill.

Good. Keep coming.

I clear a rotting log and turn with the slope.

The next bolt drives into my left shoulder.

White pain takes my sight, and my foreleg folds on the landing. My muzzle hits the earth. Through the bond, the hurt goes straight to Keer and Axan, too fast to stop.

Their alarm hits me at the same time.

They know. Fuck.

I shut my sending again as I force myself upright. Keer’s fear presses close, but I give him nothing to follow. There’s a man behind that fallen log now, planting a boot against it to take his shot.

I push off with my back legs and get a tree between us.

My left paw takes weight. It hurts, but it takes it.

The shaft catches a twig as I run, wrenching my shoulder. I keep that side clear of the next trunk and drop through the hollow under its roots, coming out downslope of them.

I need the river.

Water runs somewhere ahead, beyond the pounding in my ears. I angle toward it, keeping low where the ground opens between trees.

My shoulder’s wet, and blood works down my leg into the fur above my paw. Every stride pulls at the bolt, so I shorten the reach on that side.

The shouting gets farther apart behind me. One man calls for another to wait.

I take the next rise at a run, but my back foot slips coming down. I catch myself against a stump and shove away from it.

Too much blood. I need to get across, then stop the bleeding.

The ground levels beneath thicker trees, where the last dusk light barely reaches. The night’s cooling fast, and I shiver when I slow to listen.