"You don't have a choice."
Two men dismount, moving toward me with purpose. One of them has a fresh scratch across his cheek—branch, probably, riding through the forest at speed. The other one's boots are caked with mud, splattered up to his knees. Long ride. They came a long way for this.
"I think I do." My voice is climbing higher, undermining the whole effect. Fantastic. "This is my home. I built it. I'm not leaving because you've decided wolves are somehow dangerous."
"Mel." Kestria's voice is tight. Warning.
"They're wolves."
Theron nods to his men. "Get the healer."
One of them reaches for my arm.
"Don't touch her." Kestria steps forward, putting herself between us.
"Girl, this doesn't concern you. Step aside."
"She said no."
"And I said move." He nods again, impatient. "Get the healer. We're leaving."
The man shoves Kestria—or tries to. She doesn't move.Doesn't budge an inch.
What?
He pushes harder, putting his shoulder into it.
Nothing.
His face goes confused. Then scared.
"Inside!" Kestria's voice cracks through the clearing. "Mel, NOW!"
I stumble backward through the doorway. Kestria shoves back—the man flies, ten feet at least, crashing into a horse. The horse screams, rearing. Men shouting, reaching for weapons—
I drop under the table.
Hands over my ears.
Oh no oh no oh no.
Doesn't help.
Sounds—bones cracking, wet and horrible. Screaming. A horse wheeling, hooves against dirt. Fabric tearing. Nugget shrieking from the coop, the world's angriest alarm.
Steel ringing against—against what? Teeth? Something hard and wrong and I can't see anything from under here except chair legs and the bottom of the door frame and boots, someone's boots running past—
"Monster!" someone screams.
More screaming. A crash against the outer wall that shakes dust from the ceiling into my eyes. The wall shudders—something heavy hit it from outside—and a jar slides off the shelf and shatters on the floor. Hooves somewhere outside, fast, panicked.
There goes the deer.
Not thepoint, Mel.
The sounds change. Hoofbeats. Shouting—orders, retreat, someone yelling a name. Horses moving fast, away. Theron's voice, distant: "This isn't over."
Fading. Gone.
