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A woman, perhaps?
She was the only one who didn't feel like she wanted to hurt my forest. Not that it would let her live, but at least she didn't seem as bad as the others …
Looking down, I patted the side of my mielpaed and let out a breath.
Only a while longer before we could have our silence again.
A feminine scream drew my attention, and I looked back to see the bald shifter slap the woman two more times.
My chest tightened.
Why did he keep hitting her?
As the third strike came, she blocked it, and slammed her fist into his nose.
A chuckle escaped my lips as blood poured down his chin, but I quickly shushed it. I was supposed to be directing the creatures. Instead, this new body was getting distracted like young bodies always did.
I couldn't wait to be old again.
I looked back once more to see the woman gesturing toward me, and the group moved in my direction, the lead shifter tugging her along.
Gods, she really could sense me.
Just what kind of mage was she?
Stomping on the bald man's foot, she ran ahead, leading the group.
Once more, my lips curled into a pleased grin. What was it about this scene that amused me so much?
I reached out to a nest of frensil nearby, and the creatures answered, running as a group toward the intruders.
They surrounded them and charged before anyone could respond, attacking the metal man first, quickly tearing him to pieces. Then they hit the collared ones. The wolves were smarter, of course, and tried to run, but they were no match for my frensil.
Now it was just the woman and the man who'd slapped her.
I didn't like him.
The frensil closed in, but I called them off. Something about the woman felt different. Almost familiar.
Each time I was born, I forgot so much. Maybe it would help jog my memory if I could see her up close …
I urged my mielpaed forward.
The man screamed and stumbled back with a whimper as we broke into the clearing.
But the woman had felt me coming. I could see it in her eyes. Still, her jaw dropped, and she stumbled backward when the moonlight hit the carapace of my ride.
The man turned and tried to run, but I captured him with nearby vines, lifting him into the air. Something in me wanted to make him suffer a bit, but I refrained.
Torture was not something we did. So, instead, I bound him tightly.
"What — what are you?" The soft feminine voice broke my attention on the shifter, and I turned to see the female staring at me, eyes the color of feather moss. She'd moved toward me as she spoke, despite my being on the mielpaed, and I couldn't help but be impressed.
Humans were always intimidated by these creatures.
Her expression was fierce and stubborn, yet her nose was small and delicate like the petals of a lunaier. And her hair was fluffy like the grass of the plains. For some reason, I wanted to bury my nose in it …
What a strange urge.
