Page 83 of Of Wind and Terror

Their strange behaviors around me.

Their constant touches.

Their heartfelt words.

Gaia. I’m an idiot.

But I don’t allow her to see the impact of her words. Outwardly, my face remains expressionless and closed off. Impassive.

“They’re not my mates,” I sign, emphasizing my words with a shake of my head.

“Mitchia does not lie!” she screeches. “Kassandra must ask mates what else they keep from her. Bad, bad males. Bad males!”

She stomps towards the nearest web—towards Treyton. The outline is significantly smaller than the one beside it.

“Males only hurt females. Mitchia’s mate left her alone. He was bad, bad male. Now, Mitchia kills bad, bad males.” With an almost blistering speed, she tugs at the webbing, and it slides away from the tree.

Treyton falls to the ground, still halfway wrapped in white lace. He moans low in his throat.

Mitchia extends a hand, and the remainder of the web shoots back into her fingers, disappearing as if it’s never been there to begin with.

“NO!” I sign in horror as she bends down and grabs ahold of Treyton’s arm.

The unconscious prince doesn’t even stir as the monster opens her mouth wide, unveiling those terrifying teeth, and prepares to bite down.

I don’t think, just react.

With a sound I’ve never made before—one I wasn’t even sure I could make until today—I launch myself at the beast. My harbara twists and distorts in my hand, shrinking in size and turning sharper. Instead of a whip, it’s a dagger.

I leap onto the monster’s back and bring the dagger down into one fleshy eye. She screams in anguish, attempting to bat me off of her, but I hold on tight as I bring the blade down again. And again. And again.

But still, she lives, bucking and fighting me. I know that the moment she gets her hands on me, this will all be over. Her strength far surpasses that of even the males.

I keep the dagger in her eye and move my gloved hand to my mouth, once again using my teeth to remove the fabric. I have no idea if my powers will work on her—or what the consequences will be for me this time around—but I’m out of options.

When my hand is only inches away from her face, she suddenly leaps to her feet and runs a short distance away. She whirls to face me.

Fear grips me in a chokehold. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I’m staring into the eyes of death and feel terror like I’ve never known before. My heart feels like a wave shredded to pieces on the jagged stones of a shore.

I’m going to die.

But I won’t go down without one hell of a fight.

I keep the dagger in one hand, while my other stays in front of me. All I need to do is touch her…

With a roar, Mitchia lunges at me?—

And then flies over my head and lands in a crouch next to her home. She screams again, the noise rife with anguish, and begins to whack her face repeatedly against the stone.

“Bad Mitchia! Bad Mitchia! Bad Mitchia!” she screams, black blood running in rivulets down her cheeks.

Terror and confusion hold me immobile.

“Bad, bad, bad!” she screams, grabbing a stone off the ground the size of her palm.

And as I watch, horrified, she begins to bash her head in.

“Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!” With each smack of the stone against her flesh, her voice becomes more gurgled and indistinct.

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