Page 12 of A Dream of Snow

I nodded, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Yeah, I will be. Can you get me a piece of bread or something to ease the acid in my stomach?”

He tore a chunk of bread off the loaf and handed it to me. I gobbled it down, then drank some water and slowly stood. I was still dizzy, but it passed and the bread helped. I couldn’t use my bow, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help.

“All right, let’s get back out there and pray Bran has been able to hold his own.”

“You sure?” Quen asked. “If you need to tap out, just let me know and I’ll help you.”

I tested my dagger, making sure it was comfortable in my right hand.

“I’m ready.” I ignored the pain as we hurried back to our mounts. Quen helped me up onto Yaran’s back, and we rode out of camp, back into the forest.

The momentwe reached the treeline, shouts echoed out from among the trees. It was nearing dusk, and the sun was beginning to wane. While it was still bright, in a short time it would be gone, sucked down into the dark by the early dusk of winter.

Quen pointed to one side, where the shouts were coming from. I rode behind him, heading into the thicket. Even without the undergrowth, the continual blanket of snow made it difficult to pinpoint anything. The shouts grew louder as we neared the trees. And then, I could see. In the dim light in a clearing, three sets of riders were fighting.

For some reason, I had expected that we’d be picking them off one by one. But I pushed that out of my mind as we rode in, looking for the best way to help.

Bran was fighting Karehl, and Fenling was worked with him, trying to keep another soldier at bay. The bowman who had shot me was on the ground and racing for a horse. I galloped forward toward him, racing as fast as Yaran could go.

Karehl caught sight of me and let out a yell. “You broughther?”

Bran didn’t answer, just crossed swords again, trying to drive Karehl back. They were evenly matched in skill, and neither had the upper hand. As long as we could keep the others from helping Karehl, Bran had a chance.

I dug my heels into Yaran’s side and we picked up the pace, galloping toward the bowman. He saw me coming and turned to bolt, but I rode to his left, holding my dagger out with my right hand. Yaran put on the speed and despite his attempts to evade me, I managed to veer close enough to rake his side with my dagger. He turned, trying to steady his bow, but I urged Yaran to knock him off balance. He fell off the horse, which bolted, and I stopped in front of him.

The man was on his back, against the ground. I aimed my dagger and threw it hard, aiming for his heart. He shouted, trying to roll out of the way, but I managed to catch him straight on. The dagger struck deep and he sprawled back, bleeding out.

I rode past him, leaning down to try to grab the hilt but my wounded arm wasn’t strong enough to keep my grip on the reins and I flailed, trying to keep my seat. As I fought for balance, Quen came streaking by. He paused, grabbing the hem of my cloak and dragged me back upright. Then, without a word, he let go, wheeled around, and headed toward Bran.

I turned, trying to see how things were going. San was struggling with one of Karehl’s guards, they had both lost their swords and were grappling on the ground. Karehl and Bran were off their horses, sword to sword. One look at Karehl and my stomach lurched. He looked so totally focused, ready to kill. Fenling raced toward them, her sword out.

The next moment, everything shifted. Karehl and Bran threw aside their swords and before I could say a word, two huge white wolves appeared in their places, growling at each other. I heard a noise and turned to see both San and his opponent follow suit.

“Get out of the way!” Fenling shouted, motioning me back. I stumbled away, as Quen and the other two men from Karehl’s side shifted as well. Fenling raced over and dragged me back. “Stay here—don’t interfere or you’ll get yourself killed!”

I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but among the nine of us still living, the other eight were all in wolf form now, including Fenling. They growled, tangled in a massive fight. Blood stained the snow—at least one of them was injured but it was impossible to tell who at this point. Bran and Karehl looked almost exactly alike in their wolf forms.

Not knowing what to do, I looked around. Bran’s sword was on the ground and I darted over to it, grabbing it up. I turned back to the frothing mass of wolves. If I didn’t know they were fighting, they would have looked like they were enacting a frenzied dance of teeth and claws.

The two largest wolves broke out from the others and I realized that they were Bran and Karehl. And then, one of them looked at me and I knew it was Bran by the look in his eyes. Blood streamed from a shoulder wound and I panicked. I couldn’t let Karehl take him down—I couldn’t let Karehl win.

I ran over to them, and they paused, both staring at me.

Bran let out a warning growl, and I knew he was trying to scare me off so I wouldn’t get hurt. But the next moment, Karehl lunged at me, teeth bared. Blood lust filled his eyes and a wild, feral snarl erupted from his throat.

I brought the sword out in front of me, point aimed to meet him. But before Karehl could land on the tip of the blade, Bran slammed into him from the side, knocking him down. They rolled in the snow, and Bran came up first. He bared his teeth as he leaped again, landing atop Karehl.

With one final, savage bite, he caught hold of Karehl’s throat and bit deep. Blood fountained out, staining both their coats. Karehl let out a loud whine, then spasmed as Bran shifted backinto human form. He grabbed the sword from my hand, turned back to his brother and, with a final thrust, plunged the sword into Karehl’s heart. Karehl shuddered once more, then fell limp.

As if on cue, the other wolves stopped fighting and began to shift back into human form. It was over. The three of Karehl’s men laid down their weapons and hurried over to their leader’s side, kneeling beside him. They looked up at the sky and, in unison, let out a loud howl to the sky. Then, the slowly stood, turned to Bran, and knelt before him.

San took out the horn Borea had given us and blew a loud, echoing note on it.

The blood hunt was over. Bran had won. We were free, and Bran and Fenling could return home and start putting the pieces of their land back together. I turned to Bran and, with the others, I knelt down. He was my leader, now, too. And I would honor him accordingly.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Karehl’s menwould stay in Swelan, guarded but given freedom to join the community and make new lives for themselves. Bran gave them absolution, but forbade them from ever setting foot in Eleago again. They agreed, tired and weary. You could see it in their eyes and mannerisms. All of them seemed embarrassed, now that Karehl was dead.

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