All four men spin around, weapons drawn, but they can't see me through the thick underbrush. I'm a shadow among shadows, a hint of movement that could be wind or could be something much more dangerous.
"Where is it?" one of them hisses, crossbow raised and ready.
"Everywhere," Maris says from behind them, and there's something almost musical in her voice now. "Nowhere. Does it matter? You've already made your choice by coming here."
I move again, deliberately stepping on a branch this time. The sharp crack echoes through the trees, and the men whip around again, trying to track the sound. But I'm already gone, melting back into the forest like mist.
"This isn't natural," the leader whispers, and I can smell the acrid scent of his fear. "No wolf moves like that."
"No," Maris agrees, and I can hear the smile in her voice even if I can't see it. "No ordinary wolf would care enough to listen to me. To trust me. To consider me—" she pauses, letting the silence stretch, "--family."
The word hits me like a physical blow, warm and terrifying at the same time.
Family.
Is that what we are? Is that what she wants us to be?
I circle them again, closer this time, letting my presence be felt without being seen. A glimpse of gray fur through the trees. The sound of something large moving through the undergrowth. The sense of being watched by eyes that see everything.
"We should go," one of the younger men says, his voice cracking slightly. "This was supposed to be reconnaissance, not?—"
"Reconnaissance?" Maris cuts him off, and there's ice in her tone now. "You came here to spy on me? To gather information for a larger hunt?"
The temperature in the clearing seems to drop several degrees. Even I feel it, the way her voice carries a threat that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the promise of consequences.
I let out a snarl this time, low and menacing, and I see the leader's hand shake as he tries to keep his crossbow steady.
"Tell me," Maris continues, taking a step toward them, "how many more of you are planning to come? How many hunters think they can walk into my home and threaten what's mine?"
The men are backing away now, almost stumbling over each other in their haste to put distance between themselves and whatever they think is stalking them through the trees.
"This isn't over," the leader tries to say, but his voice lacks conviction.
"No," Maris agrees pleasantly. "It isn't. But the next time you come here, you might want to bring more men. Or better yet..." she smiles, and even I can see the predatory gleam in her eyes from where I'm hidden, "don't come at all."
I add one final touch, a howl, long and mournful and utterly inhuman. It echoes off the mountains, seeming to come from everywhere at once, and the sound of it makes even my own fur stand on end.
The men break. They turn and flee, crashing through the underbrush like panicked deer, leaving behind only the smell of fear and the echo of snapping branches.
When the forest falls silent again, I wait several long moments before emerging from my hiding place. Maris is still standing in the clearing, but now that the danger has passed, I can see the way her hands are shaking, the way she's holding herself too rigidly upright.
"Maris," I say softly, padding toward her on silent feet.
She turns toward me, and her smile is brilliant and terrifying and proud all at once.
"Did you see their faces?" she asks, and there's a fierce joy in her voice that makes my heart race. "They'll think twice before coming back here again."
I want to tell her how magnificent she was, how clever, how brave. But I also want to shake her for putting herself in such danger, for making herself an even bigger target than she already was.
Instead, I just press against her side, offering what comfort I can, and try not to think about what happens when those men make it back to their village with tales of the witch who commands monsters.
Has my cowardice endangered her life, put her in a jeopardy I won’t be able to undo?
CHAPTER 15
Maris
I watchGray pace back and forth in front of the cave entrance, her massive form tense with an anxiety that makes my chest ache. She hasn't stopped moving since we returned from the confrontation, and every few minutes she whines softly under her breath, a sound that cuts through me like a blade.
