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I walked back to my room with a heavy heart, wondering how many walking wounded there were in Pendrath tonight thanks to my brother and his devastating choices.
CHAPTER 10 - MORGAN
Iwoke up to a tonguethe size of a dinner plate lapping enthusiastically at my face.
Opening my eyes, I found myself looking up into Nightclaw’s yellow eyes. His massive, black and gold head towered over me. With a deep rumble of contentment, he lowered his face to mine and gave another slobbery lick.
My laughter bubbled forth even as I gently pushed him away and wiped at my face. It was not like being licked by a cat. No, not in the slightest. The exmoor's tongue was far too large for that. Itwasas rough and sandpapery as a cat's, however.
My fingers found their way upwards, stroking the dense fur between Nightclaw's ears. As the golden-brown behemoth nuzzled me with affection, I began to survey my surroundings.
Soft, dappled light filtered through tall, green trees around us.
I rose from a bed of soft moss and leaves. Around me, the forest whispered secrets in the rustling of leaves and the trilling of melodious birds.
As if realizing I was not about to disappear, Nightclaw strolled gracefully ahead into the trees, leading the way. I glimpsed the faint outline of his wings. Their presence could be seen beneath his fur if I looked carefully where the elongated bones and sinews added an extra layer of sinuous grace to his form.
All around us, towering trees reached skywards. A gentle breeze carried the faint fragrance of blooming wildflowers.
My feet sank into the cool, velvety carpet of leaves and moss as I walked forward, following the exmoor into an open glade filled with golden light.
He pranced forward eagerly.
Belatedly, I realized we were not alone.
A second battlecat stood in the glade as if she had been waiting for Nightclaw’s return.
As she turned her head, I recognized her. Sunstrike. Draven’s exmoor.
With a loud, happy rumble, I watched Nightclaw greet the female. The two approached one another, then rubbed their heads and cheeks together in a familiar and intimate gesture. Golden-brown fur mingled as they both began to purr.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I couldn't have said why. Because Nightclaw was happy? Or simply because these creatures were such a breathtaking sight to behold? They awed me with their beauty and innocence.
And yet something was missing.
Watching them both, I saw the differences between them. Nightclaw was the darker of the two. Thick, dark stripes covered his frame, like the markings of a warrior forged in the crucible of battle. An intricate pattern of black markings stretched across his broad forehead and tapered down his powerful jaws.
