Page 49 of Whisper Woods

It feels as if my insides are clawing at my outsides, my vision blurring when the pain overtakes my body.

A breeze—so gentle at first I don’t notice it—wraps around me, squeezing me almost comfortingly. I feel the tickle in my hair, and eventually, when the buzzing in my ears dims, the tinkle of the sprites around me.

As my body relaxes so does the breeze, until it brushes my brow with a tickling touch and dissipates into the leaves.

I’m left staring into the trees, slightly confused by the Woods and its comfort, when I feel a buzzing in my back pocket. Still shaky, I withdraw my phone and thumb it open, even more confused about how I managed to have reception here in the middle of all the Woods.

There is a message from Sameer, another Tavisher.

The magic has fallen. Tathys is open.

Falyuk.

I read the message again, snorting in disgust, spooking the birds in the trees.

The magic couldn’t have fallen this morning?I think, and immediately feel guilty for my own selfishness. The beings of Tathys must be terrified. I need to get home; I need to help.

You can tell him. The thought cuts through the noise. I can tell Seff. I can tell Seffeverything. I stare at my phone once again, and the little bars at the top showing the scrap of service I still have.Almost like magic.

Thumbing it open, I start sending the message to Seff. As I scramble for the words, it occurs to me that I can do one better than some pithy explanation… and so I send my message. Begging the Whisper Woods and the Gods that Seff will take the chance.

Seff

Seff, I am sorryI could not explain myself this morning. I do not think there are enough words to do so anyway. But what if I could show you? Meet me at the cliffs. I can wait til midnight but no longer.

I’ve spent the whole day, the whole ass day, helping Theo sneak-move Roan into the house behind the cottage. Laughing and joking, mask firmly in place. It’s been exhausting.

I stare unblinking at Rafe’s message. Glad he’s figured out how to do it.

Go now or I’ll hump a stool in the tavern in front of everyone. Wolf threatens, already trying to force me off the pillows covering the floor of Theo and Roan’s sunroom. It’s not exactly sunny now, considering it’s night and all, but the room is gorgeous, and between Theo and Roan and Caelan and Tor, the room is filled with so much love it’s making me sick to my stomach.

Wolf’s threat has real merit, though. He’ll do it. And while there are many things I’m willing to live down, that’s not one of them, so I scramble to my feet and make my hasty goodbyes. As I shut the door to the cottage behind me, I can hear my friends talking about my abrupt exit.

But I don’t care. I just want to see him. Need to see him.

I should probably still be mad or whatever. And I am. Kind of. But the compulsion to him is bigger than that. Going to him isn’t achoice. I could make excuses, like I want to hearhisexcuses for the fucked up notes. It wouldn’t even be a lie, because I’m desperate to know what his reasons are for keeping track of my friends like that. To know that he isn’t some dangerous creep. That everything hasn’t been some twisted lie.

I am sure that everyone—especially the pack—would say that my trust in himis stupid. But despite what I said this morning, IknowRafe. Maybe not every dumb detail of his life, but I knowhim.

Nanna Berry would say my spirit knows his—and I’d probably agree.

So of course I’m gonna go to him. I’ll always go when he calls.

It’s not until I reach my truck that I realise the first snag in my plan.

Work.

The pack.

Dad.

I stand by my old truck, one shoe already off in my hurry to strip for my change. I can’t go running into the Woodsagaincan I? The pack needs me. Well, Dad does anyway.

Fuck the pack. Run now.Wolf gets impatient, attempting to force the change. I mentally bat him back, ignoring his frustrated growls.We can’t go against the pack, I remind him.

Although, you’d think my fucking wolf would know that. A thousand years of exhaustion settle on my shoulders. Obligation and duty warring with my instincts. A spark of anger tries to flare, but fails, settling into a weary kind of sadness instead.

Why does no one else in the pack ever seem to struggle with this like I do?

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