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I watch the guards in charge of Alaric. While Oliver has always been kind, I don’t know what his pack is like. I stay out of their way but remain close enough to monitor how they treat him, which places me at the tail end of the procession.
Oliver walks beside me. I’m unsure if this is the position he usually takes or if he would typically be leading. For the first hour, I’m silent, grateful he doesn’t try to fill the space with small talk.
I don’t ask where we are going. It doesn’t feel important at the moment. I’m content knowing Alaric is safe, even if he’s a prisoner. Later, I will do whatever I can to free him, though I suspect it won’t be easy.
Every few strides, I will stumble or misstep. Twice, Oliver has caught me by the elbow to keep me from falling. He throws glances of gentle understanding and pity, which I do my best to ignore. I’d rather he assumes I’m exhausted than know the truth.
One of my feet steps forward a little too far, throwing off my stride. A branch snaps underfoot, and several of the closer pack members send less than subtle looks in my direction—including Alaric.
I clench my jaw, feeling heat crawl up my face.Keep this up, and I’ll end up breaking my neck. I very much doubt you can do much if that happens.I grind out inwardly toward the cursed demon.
Varin only snarls in response.
“We will stop at the lake ahead,” Oliver announces several hours in. Then addressing me, he says, “We will arrive at the Keep right around nightfall.”
The pack brightens at the announcement. Voices and steps become lighter as the tension sluffs off with each mile we gain.
A tri-color brown wolf leaps out from a thicket, barreling toward us. He changes into his human form in the last few yards without missing a beat, heading directly toward Oliver. He’s young and lean with long limbs, and his golden hair is as wild as his eyes. Unlike the rest of the pack, he only carries a small satchel.
“What did you see, Daniel?” Oliver asks as he hands him a water skin.
The young man shakes his head, refusing, though he can clearly use it. “A harmony of demons is bearing down on us.”
Oliver’s gaze snaps to me, quickly flicking down to my hand. Questions take form in his light brown and amber eyes when he notices the missing ring.
Demon shit.
Mournful howls fill the air in a faint, ghostly song. Oliver lifts his head and inhales. I mimic the gesture, wondering what he senses, but all I notice is the way the air smells like snow.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
The entire pack has gone quiet and still. Every head angles toward the approaching demons, listening. There is a moment of absolute silence.
“If you get separated, meet back at the Keep!” Oliver shouts.
And then everything descends into mayhem. Wolves of all colors appear where humans stood seconds before. They race toward the tree line to the south, colliding with the demons as they break through. The weak light is rapidly diminished by the masses of dark shapes.
Branches crack and splinter. I throw my arm up to shield my face. The lesser demons are so tightly packed together, they look like a cloud of thick smoke.
Oliver shifts and uses the side of his body to push me toward the nearest tree. “Stay down,” he says. His voice is an unnaturally deep rumble, half human, half animal.
Pressed against the rough bark, I search franticly for Alaric. My eyes alight on him with half the pack between us. They have forced him to his knees, his wrists still bound, with only one guard to keep the demons from ripping him apart.
They don’t need anyone else to worry about, but I can’t sit back and do nothing. I can’t watch as they all risk their lives. I draw the dagger from my boot and go after any that make it past the front line, protecting their backs.
I slash at a demon leaping for a wolf preoccupied with another. The blade’s edge pierces the bark-like shell of a lesser demon’s skin with no more resistance than water. I bring the weapon down between another’s shoulders as they throw back their head, dislocating their jaw, preparing to deliver a fatal bite to a wounded wolf.
One after another, I move, spinning and slashing, drawing on everything I’ve learned in training. Varin doesn’t interfere, only lending me strength and speed through their power. The mass of lesser demons is driven to retreat, and the fighting ebbs.
Varin’s warning prickles over my skin, causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise. They turn my gaze toward the thickest cluster of dark between a copse of trees.
Silently, as the night sweeps across the sky, a higher demon emerges, clawing their way from the shadows. No one seems to notice for a long second. Not until they lunge for the only pack member still in human form—the one guarding Alaric.
Their long arm thrusts out and swats at a wolf, the taloned fingers slicing over ribs and sending them into a tree. Their body hits hard, then crumples to the ground.
Without slowing, the demon lumbers on, intent on reaching the prey within their sights. Gnarled taloned claws slice the air and drive into the guard’s side. His blood is bright and harsh against the desaturated colors of winter.
Alaric is defenseless, and the demon will kill him if they are not stopped. Everyone close enough to help is locked in their own battle or too wounded to fight anymore.
