Page 18 of Father of the Wolf

“They are gaining. Could you at least help with this fight?” Rath sounded harassed at having to protect him. “Or are you still helping Athair?”

“Still.” Controlling and focusing Athair required nearly all of Dàn’s magic. Not only was he strengthening Athair and healing the more dangerous wounds, he also was forcing his reasoning on Athair’s wild mind. The task became more difficult as the distance between them grew longer.

Dàn and Rath ran on. The others were no longer gaining on them, but Dàn began to suspect that they weren’t trying to catch up. They were just letting them run. But why? Did they like where they were heading? That wasn’t reassuring.

Then he saw the ravine, and barely stopped Rath from tumbling over the edge. Using his excellent night vision, Dàn saw that it was more than twenty feet to the bottom. Though the fall would probably not kill them, it would have hurt like the devil.

He and Rath ran to the right but had only gone a few dozen feet when the pack surrounded them. They were cornered, with the steep drop off behind them.

Several of the pack, including Bequlf, leapt at them and attacked with tooth and claw. Although outnumbered, Dàn was pleased when they held their own. At least for a while.

This type of fighting was more to Rath’s taste. And Rath did seem to be enjoying the fight. He’d managed to tear a wicked slash in the neck of one of their opponents and the other facing him sported several bleeding bite wounds. He’d been spending too much time with Sgrios.

On the other hand, Dàn could certainly use some quality time with the brutal man himself. If he survived. Although he was holding his ground with the one squared off with him and both of them were bleeding from only small cuts, he knew he and Rath would have to jump and risk the ravine.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp sting in his flank. Looking down, he saw a dart hanging from his side. Rath cursed silently. “Damned cheating mongrels. They’ve drugged me.”

Darkness closed in around Dàn, who fought to stay conscious. He barely succeeded.

* * *

Rath awoke to the sound of screams and to agony beyond imagination.

His screams? His pain?

If not, it felt as though it were. The pain was personal, not distant. His mind rebelled against the pain. He couldn’t take it. Couldn’t even catch his breath. Fortunately, the experience was brief.

Seconds later a soft voice whispered into his mind, “Sleep.”

And he passed out again, returning to the comfortable arms of darkness.

Chapter Seven

Courage or Insanity?

River of Blood

Lightning shot across the sky above the road and Hope sucked in her breath. The crashing thunder shook Steve’s car. Of course, he was driving, but even without that terror, Hope was assaulted by her many other fears. Any ride in a car was difficult for her, but driving or even riding through storms terrified her beyond reason and paralyzed her. And after the incident at the deli, she was in no shape to attempt the drive home. She was even more grateful than usual that Steve had offered to be her chauffeur to and from work today. It wasn’t in the job description of a veterinary technician to cater to the neurosis of the veterinarian on shift, but fortunately Steve had proclaimed it his role in their friendship, not their profession. Hope had to wonder if her plans to open her own clinic played any part in his heroics. Either way, his help was appreciated, and she was in no position to examine the teeth of her very own gift horse.

Another bolt swept across the sky. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she sat in her rocker at home. At least it was only sprinkling so far, even if the lightning formed a nearly endless, far too intimidating, display. The thunder was so loud her ears began to ring with the pain of its echo.

Steve was talking, probably trying to distract her. She just couldn’t focus enough to make out his words. She’d thought she was getting better at controlling the fear. Even her failed drive to the deli had been a partial success. Steve had nearly thrown a party for her accomplishment, even though she hadn’t managed the short drive back. It almost made up for Steve coercing her into the drive in the first place.

It had been fifteen years since the accident that had taken the lives of her parents and two younger brothers, leaving her orphaned, crippled, and scarred. That night had been stormy, too. One psychologist felt it was her guilt that kept her paralyzed for eight months and fed the fear that had terrorized her ever since. Not that her injuries hadn’t explained the lack of feeling and movement in her legs. They were severe. Her left leg had been broken in fourteen places. And her left side was badly scarred from the burns she’d received from ankle to neck. She hadn’t even awakened from her coma until a week later. She’d missed the funerals and her chance to say goodbye to her family.

The sudden downpour pulled her back to the present. That, and the tight pain in her chest reminding her to breathe.

In. Out. Deeply. Once. Twice.

* * *

Blazing red pain drove Athair through the woods. Hate for his enemies kept a growl in his clenched jaws. He wanted to turn and kill those chasing him, but instead he ran on. Some force within him gave him no option but to run.

He remembered Dan had said to run, but how could he run like a coward when his children… When his young had been left behind?

Fighting for control, he needed to turn back. To kill the ones who were a threat. To save his young.

But he was given no say in the control of his body.

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