I’m expecting a howl of pain from my attacker, but it never comes, though his grip on my hair loosens.
Grabbing another finger, I break that one too, my stomach roiling.
He can’t hold on to me with only two working fingers and a thumb, and so as he switches his grip to his other hand, I twist free.
Scrambling for footing, I spin toward him, panting from fear and exertion.
I didn’t get a great look at him before, but as I face off against him now, I’m surprised to see how young he is. Probably around my age. Maybe a student here?
He has black hair, cut close to his scalp. He’s tall, having almost a foot on me. And his eyes . . .
I swallow a gasp.
His eyes are completely black, devoid of any white.
I’ve never seen anything like it before, and my fear triples, practically choking me.
This is it. This is exactly what my parents have been trying to protect me from my whole life. And I just walked into the woods alone and right into its evil clutches.
The guy takes a menacing step forward, not seeming the least bit bothered by his two fingers bent at odd angles. Just looking at them makes me nauseous, but he seems completely impervious to the pain, his entire focus on me.
My head is sore from being pulled by my hair, but other than some bruises I’m fine.
I steel myself, getting ready for what might be a fight for my life. I could run, but he’d just chase me, probably overtake me before I can break through the trees and get help.
My best chance is to face off with him, but when he steps closer, his chest heaving with fury, my feet betray me, carrying me backward.
When facing off with an opponent, stand your ground, I hear my instructor saying. Don’t let him back you into a corner or dictate the fight. Take control of it and steer it in the direction you want.
Yes, he’s caught me off guard and is super scary, but I remind myself I’m not defenseless. I have physical training and erratic magic.
With a burst of speed and power, I run at him, driving my fist forward with all my might. It catches him in the cheek and his head snaps to the side as I sail by him.
Spinning, he growls.
Not a normal growl either: a deep, resonating sound that no human throat could ever produce.
I feel it all the way to my soul.
If there was ever a time to disregard my parents’ warning and use my magic, it would be now, but even as I try to bring it forth, he lunges again. I lose focus, and the magic falters just as he comes at me, arms spread like he means to crush me in one brutal embrace.
Ducking, I slip under his reach and slam a jab into his side.
The blow lands, but it’s like punching a fleshy wall. He barely flinches.
Before I can retreat, his hand lashes out. A backhand cracks across my face. Pain explodes through me; the metallic tang of blood coats my tongue as I’m sent sprawling to the ground.
My elbows and palms scrape against dirt and stones, the breath knocked from my chest.
I scramble, desperate to stand, when light flares in the corner of my vision.
Before I even have a chance to turn my head, a blast of flames hurtles out of nowhere and slams into my attacker’s chest with a thunderous impact.
He staggers back with another inhuman roar, smoke curling from the scorch mark spreading across his shirt. The skin beneath is already blackened and blistered.
I blink up through the haze of pain, my pulse thundering as someone comes to stand between me and the monster.
It’s a guy with fire dancing over his fingers, his eyes locked on my attacker.
