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The banshee rose to meet it.
“Don’t—” Juliana whispered.
The banshee turned to Juliana and half smiled. It was not a nice smile—neither was it cruel. It was more like Juliana was the one about to meet her fate, and the banshee the one powerless to stop her.
The barghest lunged, sinking its teeth into the banshee’s shoulder. She let out the tiniest of cries, more like surprise than shock.
Juliana stumbled backwards, something rushing past her shoulder.
The barghest wasn’t alone.
Claws sliced through the air. She scrambled backwards, tumbling into the undergrowth, pulling up her sword just in time to meet the fangs and slashing across the roof of its mouth. It reared, hissing, blood littering the ground beneath. Juliana stumbledupright, regaining her balance, searching for higher ground, a better angle.
Another set of claws flashed from behind.
A third barghest.
She ducked out of range, sprinting downstream, hoping to find something, a tree maybe, to climb up. If she just had a few seconds to ready her bow…
Jaws snapped behind her.
The trees were too narrow, too tall, to support her weight. Shelter was limited, the fog impassable. She lost her footing, sliding down the bank, hitting the stream with a splash.
Righting herself, she squeezed against the sides of the bank as one barghest sailed overhead, thrusting her blade upwards into its soft underbelly. The weight of the beast wrenched the sword from her hand as it fell, the second creature dropping into the space between them before she could snatch it free.
She drew her dagger. The remaining barghest swiped.
The dagger didn’t have the reach that Briarsong did. She drew her second.
You are not the only one with claws…
But the barghest had three on each paw and a mouth full of fangs, and moved easily through the water while Juliana stumbled, slipping on the rocks.
Backwards she went, pushing upstream, eyes still rooted on the monster, all too aware that there was another not far behind her, still munching on the banshee. She could hear the distant crunching of bone.
Her fingers grazed the water behind her, curling around something thick and heavy.
The banshee’s cloak.
She wrapped it around her fist and flung it in the barghest’s face, catching one of its paws and blinding it just long enough for her to get a clean shot at its chest and drive in her dagger, hilt deep.
The creature flailed and struggled as she twisted the blade, jumping free before the claws could strike again, scrambling up the bank.
Something was twisted about her ankles. Without thinking, she leaned over to remove it—
A knight’s tabard, the gold thorns and white thread stained with banshee’s blood.
Juliana dropped it, not searching the size, the shape. It could belong to anyone.
One of the knights was going to die.
“It’s all right,” she told herself. Knights were built for battle. They were defending the capital as she spoke, ready to lay down their lives, it wasn’t like—
Something brushed against the bank. A fine silken shirt. More clothes drifted down the stream, rough browns, muted greens—
They could belong to anyone. Anyone at all—
But too many for one person. Far too many.
