I wake to the battered color of twilight sky—stars blurring across dark velvet. My shoulder aches where an arrowhead scraped by, and every breath tastes of iron. I force my eyes open to find Draven's storm-gray gaze pinned on me, as feral as a wolf snarl.
"Maris," he snarls, voice ripped. A muscle bunches in his jaw. "Can you ride?"
I blink back at the brutal shaft sheathed inches beneath my skin, bleeding into the moss-grown forest floor. My legs spasm, but the bond in my hand pulses with silvery warmth, providing me with what little reserve I have. "I… I'll try."
Draven embraces my waist with one blood-stained hand, the other against the twisted bark of an oak. His wolf form glows—a cage of taut muscle, claws glinting—though his shape remains half-man, half-beast. The wound at his side drips black blood into his fur, each deep gasp a draw of agony.
"We don't have a moment," he growls. He hooks my good arm around his thick neck, picking me up as if I weighed nothing. "Stormfang hunters are close behind."
I throw my good arm around his neck, covering my face in the fur of his shoulder. His heartbeat thuds against my cheek—slow, labored. Each beat causes him to grimace in pain. I press my free hand against his side, fingertips glimmering silver.
"Remain with me," I gasp, infusing Rowan's soothing words into the talisman's power. A wave of moonlight seeps into Draven's wound, restoring torn flesh. He swears, body jerking as the splinters pulse in my hand.
"Desist," he snarls, shoulders rolling forward. "You'll…"
He swallows hard. "You'll kill yourself if you persist with this."
My heart aches. Every time I repair him, the fragments drain his life force as well as mine. The venom of the curse seeps deeper, binding our fates closer. "I'm sorry," I choke. "But I can't let you die."
He does not answer, but instead stumbles ahead before I can complain. Branches slap my face. I taste resin and damp earth as he vaults over a downed tree. Above us, the moon — a narrow steel silver — gazes down upon us through drifting clouds.
A sharp twang breaks the air. Arrows whistle out of shadows. One thuds into the oak beside us; another whistles past, scarring Draven's shoulder. He snarls, spins, and I catch a glimpse of amber eyes before he bolts on.
"Wait!" he snarls. His pace accelerates to a run, stride by stride, devouring the ground. I'm gulping in harsh breaths, but I cinch my legs harder around his waist, allowing his solidity to bear me over trembling legs.
The forest closes into a ravine, steeper now, rocks jagged and slippery with dew. Draven bounces, nails scrabbling rock. I cling to him tighter, sweat chafing palms. Another arrow whines, and I feel this one—a hot line nick, burning scar across my flesh.
I shudder, gritting teeth against the pain. Blood seeps through my tunic, warmth spreading across the back. Draven slows in mid-leap, ears laid back, nostrils flared.
We can't quit, he growls. "Give it all you've got."
I bring my damaged arm up against my body, palm throbbing as I reach into what remaining moon energy I have. A thread of silver light courses through my veins, numbing the most of the pain. I clench my teeth. "I… I can do this.".
He sweeps me up, humping up out of the ravine into a dawn clearing. Silver moonlight glints on dew-misted ferns. For one fleeting moment, beauty glows—until the sound of thudding boots stiffens my gaze downward.
Torchflame blazes near the forest's edge, illuminating Stormfang hunters standing in black rows. Among them strides Tyen Rook—boyhood friend now turned guard. His golden eyes light to mine, awe yielding to anger as he beholds our battered forms.
"Stop them!" he snarls. "It's her!"
Hunters advance. Draven growls and releases me to the shelter behind a spur of the ravine wall. "Stay there," he snarls. "Don't move."
I rest against cold rock, watching him step out into moonlight like a dark king. His wolf half unwinds to strike. I swallow, red flush creeping into vision's edge.
Tyen's voice slices through the noise: "Maris! Betray your pack for him?"
My heart seizes. We were child playmates—before prophecy, before treachery. "Tyen—" I struggle to croak. My shoulder throbs, and I bite my lips hard to prevent shrieking.
Tyen lifts his spear. "By pack law, you bond at your own risk. The Council will decide your fate!" He glares at the hunters. "Take her alive!"
Draven's wolf-like growl shudders the glade. He tears forward, jaws agape, a gray blur of muscle. Hunters recoil as he bursts into their line—claws on steel, each strike binding him closer to death's curse.
I push my hand against my shoulder, seeing through a haze. The arrowhead is lodged deep; I can feel copper in my mouth. My other hand reaches out to the talisman, even though my strength is failing. Its shards glow dimly, drained from excessive use. Panic sears.
A hunter shoved me away, covering my view. I stagger after him, heel catching. I tumble, head knocking against rock, sight blinding white.
Agony streaks through me, but beneath it, I sense the tug of the bond. Draven's heart, in my palm, continues to beat—erratically, but alive. I haul myself to my feet, holding the mossy ground. My stunned eyes take in Draven on his knees, blood pooling around him.
One of the hunters raises an axe; another pulls back his bow. They close in on him, mouths agape.
I won't—can't—let this happen.
I slam my intact hand down onto the ground. A burst of moonlight radiates outwards—delicate, but enough to blind the nearest hunter. He stumbles, shield shaking.
"Draven!" I yell, falling to my knees. The talisman ignites, silver veins crawling up my wrist. I force words through gritted teeth, Rowan's healing spell holding each one together.
A moonbeam cuts through the clearing, falling on Draven's chest. His eyes lift to mine, as pain and thanks battle within them. He shifts his weight to rise, but his wound reopens in a gush of blood. He doubles over, falling to one arm.
My eyes burn with tears. I step towards him, every step a blade of pain. Hunters close in, their torches casting long shadows. Tyen's voice booms out, triumphant and merciless: "Bring them in, both of them!"
I grab Draven's arm. "Don't—you can't leave me behind!" My other hand hovers above his wound, the fragments of the talisman pulsating with an awful hunger.
He raises his good hand to my face, lips parting in a soft snarl. "Maris…" His voice breaks. "Save yourself."
My sight blanks out. A hunter's boot swings into the side of my body, stealing my air. Stars implode my vision. I feel my awareness draining-away before a last surge of moon energy floods through my palm, and I scream.
Then, the roar: Draven's werewolf, unshackled in pure fury, bellows—an earthquake bellow that pushes the hunters back on their heels. Moonlight breaks in the clearing, shards of silver light shattering like broken stars.
In that moment, all is dark.