Aviva
Alpha Ryan is the largest wolf I’ve ever seen by a long shot. While his overall mass is incredibly shocking, if not a little intimidating, he’s much slower than me.
I can hear him lumbering through the woods behind me as I dart around trees and fly over creek beds, sprinting deeper and deeper into the outer ring of the ever dark, ever untamed forest that sits on the outskirts of Endovian territory.
The spring hunt is technically taking place in the sacred hunting grounds our tribe guards year round, but I’ve had my fill of deer. Plus, Alpha Ryan already snagged a golden elk, which up until two nights ago, had been my ultimate prize. Now that pelt is hanging in the meeting hall–a trophy–and a constant reminder of how my bride price was paid.
I shake the thought out of my head and pick my way down a sharp decline into a shadowed valley where the trees rather suddenly drop off, revealing nothing but dry, rocky earth.
I don’t need to look behind me to know that Ryan is doing his best to stay close. Rocks come loose beneath him as he growls and snarls his way down the side of the ravine. What a big idiot. Honestly, did he really think he was going to win this bet? With me?
I leap over rocks bigger than most of the earthen houses in Endova as I dart across a mile long field of boulders left behind by some ancient glacier. Eventually, I meet the other side of the valley and start leaping up again, careful not to let any loose rocks hit Ryan as he climbs behind me.
Not that I care. I don’t, do I? No, I don’t. I really don’t. I still glance over my shoulder from time to time to make sure he’s still there.
I stop at the top of the first rise where the mountains I’ve been running toward for the past hour come into full, startling view. They’re massive, taking up most of the night sky as I rest at their base and gaze up at the rocky, uneven cliffs above my head. Ryan’s scent–all male, all warm fragrances that make my senses go haywire, which is incredibly annoying–reaches me, and then he’s spraying me with rocks as he skids to a stop at my side, panting.
I whip my head in his direction and snarl at him, hoping he’ll take the hint and shut up, but he groans and sits back on his haunches, slouching his broad shoulders.
He’s built like a barrel. Like a bear with long, muscled wolf legs. His head is twice the size of mine, and I could stand beneath him and my back wouldn’t even brush the underside of his belly.
Mutant beast, that’s what he is. I bare my teeth at him just because I feel like it then turn back to watch the mountain.
He sees what I see after a few minutes. Several white dots move along the rocky, uneven face of the cliff. I count six mountain goats. Mostly males, from what I can see from this distance, which is exactly what I’m here for. I couldn’t care less about the meat, although it would be welcome if the Goddess sees it in Her heart to let me catch one. I want the pelt and the horns. I need them, actually, if I’m really going to be leaving my tribe and joining Alpha Ryan’s pack.
A deer appears a few yards away from us, oblivious to us crouching in the rocks. I expect Ryan to leap into action. It wouldn’t be hard for him to kill it. He’d win the wager.
But he doesn’t move. He waits beside me, thrumming with nervous energy. I slowly move my front paw, knocking a rock loose from our hideout. It rolls away, bouncing down and slamming into boulder after boulder. The deer, spooked, runs away.
I slowly turn my head to look at Ryan. His eyes meet mine, a dark blue in the moonlight. He lowers his snout, teeth bared, as if to say, “Don’t do it.”
I jump from our hideout, my legs carrying me up over the remaining boulders and toward the rocky cliff. He’s right behind me, slower, of course, but gaining ground as I dip into a pocket of trees where another deep, dark forest begins and hightail it toward the cliff base.
Hunting for goats is extremely dangerous, even as a wolf. Most hunters stumble upon them by chance rather than seeking them out. They like to stay high in the mountains, picking their way across the most treacherous territory to stay out of the reach of predators. But in the spring, they come down from their mountain top homes to graze on the newly thawed moss and alpine flowers that grow along the lower elevations.
That doesn’t make it any easier, however. These goats are balanced on the face of the cliff, and I need a way to get up.
I break out of the trees and look up. The first goat is only a hundred or so feet above my head.
Ryan sends a low warning growl toward me, but it’s swept away by the stiff, cool breeze coming off the mountain.
I leap, clawing my way up, picking my way across shallow ledges made of shale. I keep my body light and agile, never putting weight in my legs, and always moving. The goat has no idea I’m underneath it. Its companions higher up haven’t noticed me, either. The wind is carrying my scent away from them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryan running along the base of the cliff, back toward the valley of boulders, looking for an easier way up. If he thinks he’s getting a goat, he’s delusional.
I’m running out of room to climb in my wolf form, however. The shale starts slipping beneath me, so I jump, shifting mid-flight, and pull out two of my daggers before my body collides with the cliff face. My blades sink into the soft, crumbling stone, sending sharp vibrations down my tired arms.
I grope for my footing while watching the goat, only twenty feet above me now, still munching on moss and oblivious to the threat directly below him. He’s large, a pure, soft white. He’s maybe a few years old judging by the horns that stretch in nearly straight lines from the top of his thick skull. I need him. I want him. I won’t leave without him, even if I have to chase him up the mountain.
I send a quick prayer to the Goddess for Her blessing to take this life. I pray to the older, forgotten gods that She answers then make my move.
My bare toes find a ledge with only a few inches of space to spare, but it’s enough to ease the growing strain in my arms. I release one blade and quickly sheath it, then grip the cliff face. I repeat the process with the other blade until both hands are free, and I can begin to climb again. The wind hurts, though. Bitter and fierce at this altitude, I have to close my eyes every time it blows, but I keep climbing. There’s a wider ledge just below the ledge where the goat is standing, creating an overhang of rock. If I can get to that, I can use my bow to strike the goat. The goat will fall into the trees below without hitting me if I keep myself pressed to the cliff face.
It’s a solid plan. Nothing can go wrong.
I reach for the ledge when a keening sound is carried through the wind, and the goat looks up, its thick, white coat rustling.
A screech like the sound of a person losing their life tears through my ears, cutting straight into my soul. Terror blinds me, and my hand slips. I yelp in panic as the wind rushes toward me again, nearly knocking me off the few inches of rock my toes are resting on.
Something thunders above me, and the goat and its companions startle, grunting and bleating as they begin to run along the cliff face, knocking rocks loose. I look up and shout in alarm as a huge rock, probably the size of Lora, hurtles toward me. It slams into the goat’s head and bounces past me, but the goat is falling with it and—
White fur fills my vision. It’s back brushes over my head. I lose my footing as it passes me.
‘AVIVA!’ Alpha Ryan’s voice explodes through my head at the very moment I lose my footing, my fingers slipping from the rock.
His voice bouncing through my skull is almost as shocking as the fact I’m about to die. How is it possible? I can mind-link with my pack, not strangers. His voice is still echoing through me when something snaps across my back. Tree branches give way beneath me, filling my vision. I reach out instinctively, curling my hands around a branch. It slows me down, but it’s not enough to break my fall completely.
With the branch in hand, I careen toward the forest floor where I land on top of the absolutely, most definitely dead goat and bounce off it, landing with a crunch. The air is knocked from my lungs as pain echoes through my body.
Moonlight streams from a hole in the treetops as I lay motionless, gasping for breath.
But it strikes me that I’m not alone. It’s totally dark save for the ribbons of moonlight all around me, but there’s something else here, for sure. Something that makes my skin crawl.
I wince in pain as I roll over onto my belly. My bow is smashed to bits, my arrows scattered and snapped all around me from the fall. I push up to all fours but rest on my knees, my back cracking vertebrae by vertebrae.
I can feel my whole body, which is a good thing. Nothing is broken save for my bow. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and an old campsite comes into view… but not that old, I realize with a start. It’s recently been abandoned–and hastily. A tent is pitched nearby, flapping in the wind. The fire isn’t smoking anymore, but I can smell the remnants of charred wood and the scents of what must have been a group of hunters from Navvan.
Not Endova. I’d recognize these scents if that were the case.
I look around the clearing, taking in the caches of clothing and an abandoned spit where a deer carcass is burnt to a crisp, totally forgotten.
Something happened here. Something happened recently, within the last twelve hours, I estimate.
A twig cracks nearby, then a rumbling sound like a rockslide tears toward me. Two massive shadows roll out of the woods in a blur of flesh, claws, and teeth.
It’s Alpha Ryan and something… else.
He thrashes with the unfamiliar beast, closing his massive jaws around its short, bulky neck as they skid across the clearing, busting through the tent. The canvas fabric wraps around them both, momentarily blocking my view as I scramble for my blades like I can do anything about this right now.
I choke on a gasp, trying to fill my lungs with much needed air, as I grasp for the pieces of my bow and desperately try to make it work, all while Ryan is battling only a few yards away. His snarls sink into my soul. He’s pretty fucking scary, I’m not going to lie.
I look back at him just as the moonlight spreads to the center of the clearing, illuminating the other creature for the first time, and I’m… frozen. Frozen in actual, bone-shaking fear.
It’s a bear. At least, at one point in time it was. Now, it’s mangled and mutated, its eyes swirling with dim, flickering power. The bloody taste in my mouth isn’t from biting my lip as I fell. It’s the metallic taste of magic.
It’s a hellhound. I’ve never seen one. If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the tale. I’d be dead.
When the bear opens its mouth and roars, the sound is tangled with the pleading gasps of whoever’s soul was used to tether the hellhound to a witch.
“ALPHA RYAN!” I scream as he sprints toward the hellhound and rolls with it toward the edge of the clearing. They fall out of view again, and all I can hear are their grunts and snarls.
But then it grows so silent I can hear the wind rustling through the new, spring leaves overheard. The sound of flesh tearing fills my ears, then grunting pants, and then a large, lumbering shadow is swaying through the darkness.
Swaying toward me.