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CHAPTER 27
The air was filledwith a cacophony of snarls and growls as I came swiftly awake in my tent a few nights later. The horses were screaming. I could hear Draven shouting.
As I crawled out of my tent with my dagger already in hand, my breath caught in my throat as I took in the scene.
We were under attack.
At first I thought they were wolves. Then I saw the huge snapping jaws and glowing red eyes. Not wolves. Something similar but something else. They were massive, gray fur matted and unkempt, jaws dripping with saliva, flesh sunken and decaying.
Two had taken down our pack horse and were busily ripping it apart, worrying the flesh from the horse's bones with sharp teeth as it lay screaming in agony.
I had seen all I needed to. I launched myself across the campsite, heading straight for Haya. When I reached her side, I grabbed my bow, then untethered her and slapped her side, sending her whinnying and racing away from the campsite.
I was about to do the same with the other two horses when the fenrir hit me from behind.
I felt sharp claws digging into my back and let out a cry of pain, my fingers clutching at the dirt as I desperately tried to pull myself away, out from under the heavy creature atop me. Sharp claws raked along my back, piercing through my tunic and slicing through my skin.
There was a sickly whining sound and the fenrir slumped on top of me, then was swiftly kicked away.
I looked up to see Draven standing over me. He yanked me to my feet, then whirled me around to look at my back.
“Fuck! By the Three, Morgan...” He was cut off as Vesper shouted for help from across the campsite.
I turned around, ignoring the stabs of pain coming from my back, refusing to imagine what might look so terrible that it would prompt hard-hearted Draven to look sickened, and raised my bow to my shoulder.
Vesper was fighting fast and furious, one fenrir looming on his left and another to his right.
Draven barreled past me, sword raised, a roar springing from his lips.
With shaking hands I nocked an arrow and let it fly. It spun past me, knocking the fenrir on Vesper's left to the ground. The beast let out a keening cry as Draven reached it and finished it off, delivering a death blow to its head. As he spun around, Vesper was already dealing with the second fenrir, his knives slashing through the air with deadly precision, leaving the wolf-like creature's body mangled at his feet.
I watched the two men stand, panting and exhausted, back to back, then let out a cry of warning.
“Draven, behind you!”
Four more fenrirs were creeping out of the treeline, apparently not put off by their brethren's demise.
One of them raised its head and howled, a piercing sound of hunger that echoed through the night.
There were too many of them, I thought, suppressing a panicked sob. And from deep in the woods I heard an answering baying.
The fenrirs sprung on the men.
Unearthly howls filled the air as two of the creatures immediately seized Vesper, dragging him to the ground.
I let out a scream of fury and fell to one knee, nocking an arrow as fast as I could.
I aimed at the closest fenrir. My missile flew true, striking it in the chest and tossing it back. Free from one of the creatures, Vesper pushed himself up, leaping to his feet, fresh knives in each hand. Blood poured from a gash on his cheekbone.
I shifted my view and saw Draven fighting the other two fenrirs, his sword thrusting in and out through fur, flesh, and bone. I ran to his aid, tossing my bow aside and raising my dagger.
