Page 3 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

The sweet, rotting smell envelops me, and shadows spreads like oil across the grass under my boots.

I wheel around.

A demon coalesces in front of me. The black smoke comes together, solidifying into a body.

I squeak. I don’t know what to do—I’ve never had to fight a demon before.

After what feels like an eternity—but is probably only a few seconds—it’s fully formed. The smoke billows around its edges, and shadows fall from its body and land on the ground.

The smell fills my nose, and then the black smoke surrounds me, cutting off my vision. I can’t breathe. I can’t even think, but I hear it getting closer. I imagine it reaching for me, and I lift my arm on instinct.

Something rips through my sleeve and skin, burning my forearm.

I scream and slam my hands together, trying to keep my arm, which may be mangled, up in front of my face. I’m not prepared for this—I don’t know how to defend myself. I can barely control any magic at all, just a faint stream of it. That won’t be enough to save me.

A rushing noise fills my ears, and a pop, as if the air pressure has changed around me. The oxygen is sucked from my lungs. My muscles burn, and pain lances through me in waves.

I hit the ground hard—but it doesn’t make a dent in the agony racing through me. My mouth opens and closes.

The sensation vanishes as quickly as it came on, leaving me panting.

I lie still and try to make sense of what just happened. The stone has lost its heat, but my hands tremble. I dig my fingers into the dirt, taking a bit of energy from the earth. It seeps through my limbs, cold and soothing. A balm to my aching muscles. After another minute, I sit up.

And stare in wonder.

I’m still in a forest, but there’s no more clearing in front of me. No cottage, no demons, no mother. I rise slowly, my body stiffer than it’s ever felt. I reach out and brace myself on a tree trunk, and the ground slants.

My body revolts with the upward motion.

I lean over and heave until I vomit. Eventually, I pick my head back up and examine my surroundings. It’s not familiar in the slightest.

How?

Did my mother send me away?

Transporting something—or, I suppose in my case, someone—is dangerous. Punishable in some covens. It takes a great dose of power, and my mother just used it on me.

With a cry, I realize that I have no idea what happened to her. Whether she fought the demon facing her or if she was too distracted by what was happening to me.

If they killed her… or if the wolf did.

Wolves, I correct. Those beasts never travel alone. It doesn’t matter that I just saw one. I’m sure there were others lurking in the shadows.

I pat myself down. I managed to keep my bag still on my shoulder. My sleeve is ripped. There’s a cut on my arm, blood rolling down the outside of my wrist and dripping off my fingers. The arm I raised to protect myself against the demon.

My bag. I can staunch the bleeding with something.

I drop to my knees and rip it open, sifting through it. There are the clothes and small bag of toiletries I brought with me, plus unfamiliar items Mom must’ve stowed in it. There’s nothing I want to ruin in order to stop the bleeding. Not one of my few clean shirts.

With a sigh, I rip my shirtsleeve and use it to wrap the wound. I tie it off and tug the knot tight with my teeth, groaning.

It hurts like a thousand bee stings.

Of the new things, a smaller leather pouch filled with stones stands out. I run my fingers over them and close my eyes for a moment. The magic my mother sank into them calls out to me. There are some surprising ones that I pass by, but my index finger pauses on one that contains a concealment charm.

It’s as familiar to me as breathing, seeing as how I made this one with her just the other morning.

I slip the stone into my bracelet and flip it back over, wincing slightly as the stone settles on my skin. The leather bracelet came from a witch who specialized in such creations. Most witches can infuse stones with magic. Holding them to our skin, hidden from sight, gives us the advantage to call upon that power at any time. Unlike drawing magic from our bodies, which drains us—and has severe limitations.