Page 16 of Gone Hunting

His strength is no match for Celia’s. She knows it, yet she meets him dead on, her arms out and her nails ready to slash.

With all the strength of my hindquarters, I push off the ground, soaring into the skinwalker and throwing him off target. It’s not hard, he’s too far ahead. It’s just enough to tilt him at an angle, making it easier for Celia to sever his spine.

The lower half of the skinwalker spirals into the gorge. The upper half snags Celia’s waist, wrenching her down as the pillar tips at an angle. I slam against the side and slide after them, digging my claws through the soil to help me steer.

I catch up to Celia halfway down, her long nails stabbing the earth to keep herself in place as she kicks at the skinwalker holding tightly to her legs.

I lift my paws and increase my speed, ramming him hard. He barrels down the side, screeching, arms flailing with rage.

My speed and weight worked well to bring down the skinwalker, but now, they work against me. I barely manage to shift my weight and drive my claws into the ground to keep from joining him.

He disappears deep into the earth, the last of the sickening mist coursing behind him.

A screech of pain accompanies the first breath of fresh air filling my lungs. We did it. We brought him down.

My relief is brief. Slowly, the ground begins to reseal, the broken chunks of earth rising and filling the gorge. I glance up to see Celia looking down. Claws protrude from her toes, while the rest of her remains human.

Neat trick, but now is not the time to ask her about it. I climb up as fast as I can, encouraging her forward with a nudge of my nose. The ground is rising faster, loudly, like a crater being formed in reverse.

Celia grunts and groans each time her claws spike into the ridge. She keeps her head down, attempting to shield her face from the bits of dirt and gravel raining down on our heads. She’s exhausted and weak from lack of food and water. Yet, here she is, moving as fast as her body will allow.

We barely make it out before the ground mends shut, falling on our sides and breathing hard. I turn, watching her claws dissolve back into her skin. She tilts her head, her dirt coated face meeting mine. “Just so you know, this sort of thing doesn’t happen in Jersey.”

Magic feathers along my spine as Ichangeback, my lopsided smile widening whenshe covers her eyes. “Colorado’s seen better days,” I confess.

“Come on,” I say rising. “We have to find my friends.”

“First things first.” She digs into the pocket of my sweats and pulls out a pair of boxers.

I chuckle and pull them on as fast as I can. I forgot I’d shoved them in there.

I stand over her when she continues to lie on the ground and offer her my hand. “Celia, I’m dressed. Now, come with me. The skinwalker has returned to its domain, but I can’t be sure he’ll stay.”

Her eyes widen and she clasps my hand. I shudder when another wave of that gentle warmth surrounds us, struggling to focus on anything past her.

“My friends,” I repeat. “We have to find them.”

Celia releases me, staring at her palm, as if whatever connection we share will somehow be explained. “All right,” she says, startling when a stand of trees pokes through from the ground. They twist up and out, spreading their long limbs and resuming their original form.

“Did the skinwalker do that?” she asks, following me as I head forward.

“No. It’s the power of good within nature. The skinwalker was only about the evil that’s been done to it.”

My nose twitches when it picks up the scent of blood.Koda’sblood.

I take off, back in the direction of the river. We find my friends further down from where I met Celia, hovering near an old fallen tree.

Gemini has resumed his human form, his pale body leaning against the bank and his twin wolf draped across his lap. He turns his head when he sees us approach. Koda kneels over Liam, whispering low. Like Gem, they’re human and partially dressed, the sweatpants they wear muddy and torn.

Koda whips around, hanging tight to his stomach and snarling when he hears us approach.

He drops his hand away when sees us. “You’re alive,” he says.

Blood oozes from the wound in his stomach. If he’s still mending, the injury was worse than I thought. “What happened to you?” I ask.

He glances behind me where Celia is standing. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” I ask again, this time louder.

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