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I weighed up the situation.
A bloodthirsty fight hovered on a precipice. One wrong word would send the fragile peace into outright slaughter. The wolves wouldn’t hesitate if the Nhil took another step toward their den. And the Nhil would kill a few of my family in return. They were too skilled with their weapons not to ensure there wouldn’t be death on both sides.
I couldn’t let any of the pack get hurt, and I couldn’t allow any of the Nhil to get eaten.
Runa would never forgive me.
It felt like I deliberated for hours, but really, it was just a moment.
A single moment where I saw all and made a swift decision.
The other wolves didn’t break position, waiting for Salak’s command, all while the Nhil shifted with nervousness. The alpha flicked his ear toward me again, his wisdom in ruling this territory making him assess all threats before leaping blindly into battle—
A Nhil hunter suddenly shot forward, his fear making him impatient. With a yell and skilled leap, he threw his spear, sending the feathers tied around the top fluttering as it whistled toward Zetas who held her ground at Salak’s right shoulder.
I froze.
The she-wolf wouldn’t be able to defend herself from such an attack. But she braced bravely and snapped at the sky, refusing to leave her alpha’s side. The spear arrowed straight toward her, close, too close—
A crackling shadow shot from my skin, whipping toward the spear and slamming it into the ground by Zetas’s paws.
The she-wolf who I felt such kinship with flinched.
She flinched.
A lone survivor, who’d chosen Salak’s family for her own—just like me—merely flinched in the face of falling death all because of her loyalty and courage.
Fury ripped through me.
How dare they try to hurt her?!
How dare they threaten my pack!
Savage ferocity hissed in my veins, and without a thought, I sent a pulse of death through the darkness. The spear snapped into pieces, shattering beneath my blackened temper.
It took no effort.
Just a wish.
A simple desire to smash the spear into nothing.
Salak froze.
His head whipped to face me; his spiral horns white in the night.
The wolves followed his stare. A few howled as I stepped from the long grass and joined the battleground where feet had trodden grass low, ready for blood.
Nhil hunters stiffened as I walked with my shadows. I didn’t suck them back or hide the darkness I belonged in. A few males swallowed hard; knuckles whitened further around their weapons. They moved closer to one another, almost unconsciously, their different-hued skin gleaming dark and light with perspiration.
I stopped in the centre of impending war and crossed my arms.
I didn’t go to the wolves; I didn’t go to the Nhil.
I placed the wolves at my back and faced the mortals. I carried no spear or staff. No blade or shield. I just stood there in a simple wolf pelt, my body etched with rage, and my shadows twisting and licking at my feet.
No one spoke as I ran my gaze over the row of Nhil hunters.
I recognised a few from my evening watching them after Syn’s bite turned into fevers. Some were old and others young. A crowd of ten or so men, all dressed in their wraps of bison fur with their hair intricately plaited and constantly clinking with their threaded beads. The three females wore strips of fur over their chests, their faces strained.
Unfolding my arms, I fisted my hands and locked my knees as a tall, broad-chested, dark-skinned male nudged a few of the others out of the way, moving toward the front.
Aktor and Kivva drifted to the man’s side as he stopped, their lips thin and eyes full of loathing.
I trembled with the overwhelming urge to send a shadow to wrap around their throats. To squeeze. To fashion a shade into a blade and stab it into Aktor’s neck, letting him experience how Runa felt when he’d pinned her down and pressed his body to hers.
My teeth ground together as my vision blackened at the edges.
My fury gathered with fatal thirst as images bombarded me. How he’d made her bleed. Made her cry. How he’d tried to take what wasn’t his to fucking take.
The curse tumbled through my mind, blending with the ancient language Runa and I spoke. My shadows reacted, snaking across the flattened grass, heading straight toward Aktor, completely out of my control.
I willed it to hurt him, punish him.
Salak scented my unravelling ferocity.
He stalked to my side with stealthy, heavy paws.
All it would take was a thought, and Aktor would be dead.
But then, Salak would pounce.
The Nhil would attack.
And by the time the moon rose, there would be no more Nhil, and the grasslands would be drowned in hunter blood.
I wanted that.
I wanted to remove their threat so Runa would stay protected and mine.
But...I can’t.
I couldn’t hurt the wolves, and I couldn’t hurt the people Runa had chosen over me.
