Page 83 of The Ashpaw: Part One

“You smell frightened now,” he groaned. “Delicious.”

Fern veered sharply around the corner of a stone outbuilding, nearly slipping in the damp grass beyond the courtyard. The castle grounds stretched wide beneath the rising moon—training fields, sparse trees, low stone walls.

Too much space, and too many places for something faster than her to hunt.

“There’s no need to make this so difficult,” Harland called conversationally. “If you’d just let me catch you, I’d breed you and we’d both be satisfied.”

Her stomach twisted, and she ran harder.

Branches slapped against her arms as she plunged through a sparse line of trees bordering the practice grounds. Somewhere behind her came another laugh—

Then silence.

Fern’s pulse stumbled.

Silence was worse. Far worse.

She slowed for one second, straining to hear. There was nothing, only the wind and the pounding of blood in her ears.

And then something crashed through the underbrush to her left.

Fern screamed and stumbled backward, while Harland grinned at her from atop a boulder, head tilted.

“Very delicious. I’m ready to finally have a taste.”

He leapt down and she ran again.

Her lungs burned almost immediately, her legs threatening to give out. Roots snagged her slippers, and her dress tore somewhere along the hem.

Behind her, Harland no longer bothered pretending restraint. His breathing had roughened into panting snarls and the moon climbed higher.

Then something wet snapped inside the dark.

Harland dropped to one knee with a cry that was half agony, half ecstasy.

Fern slowed despite herself, watching in abject horror as the beast finally took over.

“Run,” he growled through sharpening teeth, his jaw snapping with a sickening series of pops while fur rippled over his skin. “RUN!”

Terror hit her so hard her vision blurred.

This was no longer some twisted game between wolves.

She was prey. As in, to be killed, eaten, and digested.

She ran blindly through the trees as massive paws thundered behind her now, hard enough the ground itself seemed to shake.

But they were too fast, too determined to catch her.

A snarl exploded somewhere close enough she felt the heat of breath at her back.

Fern sobbed, Please please please…

Her wolf remained frozen inside her own den.

Not safe, not safe.

“I know!” Fern cried aloud.