The wind beat at my back, suddenly kicking into a higher gear as if to challenge me.
You can’t win,it howled.Nothing but death for you tonight.
Fucker said a lot for wind.
I seemed to be on a lucky streak, reaching the top without much of an issue.
Too easy…
I paused at the top, straddling the wall, the cold iron freezing against my groin.
Some weird popping kept attacking my ears. I rubbed at them, observing the way ahead.
A deep valley spread out before me, its banks lined with more firs and snow, a frozen river cutting through the center of it.
“Okay,” I said to myself, “time to?—”
Howling cut me off.
Wolf howling, baying at the full moon.
I realized my mistake then.
I’d only gone and climbed the Lost Valley wall. Of course, it was big and imposing. It kept feral werewolves, those who’d lost themselves to their beast beyond repair, in this makeshift prison. The popping came from the layer of sound only a wolf could hear, only a mild irritation to me. A toll to keep them in should they even try climbing up here.
Shit.
Werewolf law prohibited feral wolf execution unless deemed necessary. Every life was seen as precious, so this prison got built to allow the doomed ones to live.
Or so I’d heard. That didn’t extend to wiping out executioners.
Right, I had to get off this wall on the correct side. I’d go around. Yeah, it’d be miles out of my way, but I didn’t want to take my chances in there.
I started to sing in case, you know, Caer wanted to lend a hand.
Aidan took the opportunity to appear before me, also straddling the wall.
“Hello!” he yelled, stabbing me in the neck, then slapping me across the face.
I fell, smacking the ground with a gross snap of almost every bone.
It took a few minutes for me to bleed out, then go through the rigmarole of death and resurrection.
On the wrong side of the wall.
Dammit!
I got to my feet, scanning my surroundings.
Okay, okay, okay. I had this. Ihadto have this.
The wind picked up again, stirring the trees, every hair on my body responding with prickle after prickle.
Don’t let it get to you.
Rolling my shoulders, longing for a thick coat, I waved at the trees. They sent me their essence, bolstering my senses.
Follow the river. According to my sister, it was always the best course of action. She’d told me so a few times while we were on the run.
