Page 92 of Moon Chosen

Davis was studying the tracks around the clearing. “Males. Several of them. Nik, I hear what you’re saying about Skin Stealers, but these are definitely wide, flat tracks typical of Scratcher males. Though I don’t get why they’d waste an entire carcass.”

“They’re mad,” O’Bryan said. “How can anyone understand why Scratcher males do what they do?”

“But this hasn’t happened before, right?” Nik said.

“No, never heard of anything like this,” O’Bryan said. “You, Davis?”

“Nope. Never. Not even Scratchers waste a deer carcass. They’re too precious—too hard to find.”

“The forest is changing. The Scratchers are changing,” Nik said, feeling a strange, crawling sensation under his skin. “This is just more proof of it. We need to get out of here. Now. My gut says we won’t find sign of the girl or the pup near here. If they have enough sense to hide their tracks from us, they certainly have enough sense to stay away from anywhere rabid males hunt.” Nik was giving one last sad look at the wasted deer when Cammy began to growl.

“Something’s coming,” Davis said. “Something bad.”

The three men lifted their crossbows and began to retrace their path out of the grove when five Scratcher males seemed to materialize from the shadows.

They were moving with a feral grace, their bodies hunched, their hands clawed. One, larger than the others, bared his teeth at them as he spoke, his voice so guttural it was almost unrecognizable as human.

“Now you are the hunted!” His snarl worked like a goad on the other Scratchers. As one, the creatures attacked.

“Get to that ridge!” Nik yelled as he let fly an arrow, skewering the male that had targeted him. “We can pick them off from there.”

“Cammy! Up!” Davis shouted, and the Terrier sprinted up the incline, well out of reach of grasping Scratcher claws.

Nik saw that Davis was halfway up the ridge with O’Bryan close behind him. He turned and took a stand. “Go on, O’Bryan! Get out of here!”

“Won’t leave you!” O’Bryan cried.

Nik felt rather than saw his cousin hesitate. “You’re not leaving me! Just get up there and start shooting them!”

“Got it! I’ll—” O’Bryan’s words were cut off with a shocked cry. “Ahhh!”

Nik pierced another Scratcher through the neck with an arrow. Gurgling and writhing, the big male went down, causing the other three behind him to hesitate, and giving Nik enough time to see that his cousin was wrestling with another Scratcher.

“O’Bryan! I’m coming!” With a motion as smooth as water over river rock, Nik lifted his crossbow, sighted, and took down two of the three Scratchers with one shot. The third male, one who looked younger and slightly less bestial, gave a shriek filled with anger before disappearing into the forest.

Nik turned and sighted his bow at the male who was in hand-to-hand combat with his cousin. But he couldn’t get a shot. They were too close together. Instead of using his bow, Nik ran, pumping his arms and using all of his strength to reach O’Bryan. As easy as breathing, Nik took the dagger from its resting place threaded through his leather belt. The creature’s back was to him, and he plunged his knife into it, all the way to the hilt. The male crumpled to his knees, screaming in agony, but before he could breathe his last breath, he sank his teeth into O’Bryan’s leg.

“No!” Nik’s cry echoed O’Bryan’s scream of pain. He flung the twitching Scratcher aside, sending its body rolling down the ridge. Then Nik grabbed O’Bryan around the waist, supporting him, and yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”

Thunk! Thunk!Two arrows found their marks behind Nik. As he and O’Bryan reached the top of the ridge Davis was there with Cammy growling beside him, crossbow in hand.

“I got both of them,” Davis said. “I don’t see any more.”

“Didn’t see the one that attacked me until it was too late.” O’Bryan spoke between gasps for breath as he leaned heavily on Nik. “He raised up from the forest floor. They were hidden, Nik. They ambushed us.”

“We’re out of here. Now!” Nik said. “Davis, send Cammy ahead. Tell him to warn us if he scents any more Scratchers.” With his free hand Nik held his own crossbow at the ready. “You watch our back.”

“Done!” Davis said grimly. “Cammy—home! Watch!”

Connected by blood and friendship, the three men fought their way forward. Two more males attacked them, and those two more males died—one from Davis’s bow and one from Nik’s. They didn’t stop to rest or reevaluate until they reached the creek where it had all begun more than two weeks before.

Nik’s dagger cut through O’Bryan’s blood-soaked pant leg, exposing the nasty bite wound in his calf.

“Put your leg in the creek. Wash it out. Hurry, O’Bryan!” Nik said. “Davis, keep Cammy on guard. Tell him to warn us if any more of them are near.”

Davis murmured to his smart little Terrier, and the canine jumped up on a boulder near the creek bank. From there he kept scenting the air in all directions as his sharp eyes searched the brush for danger. “He’s got it! What can I do to help?”

“Gather moss from that statue-thing over there, and then rip a strip of fabric from your shirt. I’m gonna pack this, tie the moss on, and then we head for home,” Nik said.