elsewhere.
Somewhere I’m not myself but something larger.
More powerful.
Somethingfurious, packed with flexing strength that fans from between my shoulder blades, my chest puffed with a roil of frosty fire threatening to burn a trail up my throat—
The Other dives into a cloud of fog, releasing a guttural screech that tapers into a squeal sharp enough to slit skin. Announcing her rabid intentions to slay the young fae who snuck upon her nesting pillar and took her most precious egg.
She may have been sitting on it for too long—since well after her mate was felled and bled into the ground—but she could finally sense life within. Since bestowing it a silver thread of the mystical fiber within herself, life hadfinallybegun to flutter.
And now it’s gone.
She blasts free of the mist as rage erupts up her throat, pouring past her open maw. Azure flame explodes against a tall nesting perch made by another long-passed Moonplume, crumbling it to pieces and shattering the silence.
There will be no rest until The Other has the thief clamped between her teeth and she’s shaken his heartbeat still. Then she’ll feast on his flesh—tear it from his bones strip by strip. Garbed in his blood, she’ll wait for his remains to turn solid from the cold, then crunch him into shards.
If she can justfindhim.
There’s a distant shout. Rattling. A series of animalistic squeals that lifts The Other’s hackles, sending a shudder down her spine.
She banks, hunting the sound, plunging through another sheet of mist hiding much of the spawning grounds.
“Go away, you horrid beasts!”The Other’s heart hitches at the shrill voice echoing through the din.“Leave us alone!”
The mist dissipates long enough for her to catch sight of an icy overhang, glimpsing a little fae much too young for this part of the world.
She should be in a stone nest with the ones who gave her life, wrapped in the furs fae have taken to wearing to protect their fragile skin. Nothere, guarding a small snow nest, surrounded by doomquills. Prickly predators that are painful to chew on, that rattle and howl and raid dens dug into the snow—their main prey the fresh litters of more vulnerable creatures.
The very reason The Other often ends up with their spikes embedded in her gums.
She observes the youngling’s stance: little feet perched wide for battle, her angry yet fearful eyes so blue they could be forged from the flame that brews in The Other’s chest.
“Go away!”she screams, voice trembling. She thrusts a dagger forward, as though trying to make up for her lack of sharp teeth or claws.“Or I’ll use it!”
The Other notices the way her hand shakes, like she’s scared despite her bared teeth and loud threatening words.
Tucking her wings, The Other swoops closer, moving as one with the air currents so they don’t shriek against her hide. She cuts through more mist, emerging to see the largest of the spiky predators leaping forward with a howl just as the fae punches her weapon into the creature’s smooth underbelly.
Dark blood sprays the youngling’s face.
The creature tips its head and yowls, and something shatters in the young fae’s eyes. She sobs as her prey falls to the ground.
Dead.
The rest paw at the snow, wailing, long tongues lashing. Their intent obvious.
Approach as one. Disable. Kill.
The Other’s instinctsrage,urging her forward. Roaring for her to protect.
PROTECT.
She folds her wings, tucks them flat against her body, andplunges. Throwing them wide, she swings forward and drops to the ground, the motion kicking up an explosion of snow that buffets her silver hide, disorienting the now-screeching, scattering creatures that momentarily forgot they’re not at the top of the food chain.
The Otheris.
The youngling doesn’t scream, doesn’t flinch or try to run. She falls to her knees and barricades the opening, her sad eyes still on the beast she felled and the swelling puddle beneath it.
