Page 87 of Whisper Woods

My injuries must be worse than I thought. I’m delirious. Because I swear I just heard a howl.Seff’showl. But that cannot be right. Through the fog in my ears, and the thunderous chanting I hear something else, indistinct shouting. It’s far away but getting closer, clearer.

Has help finally arrived? Is it not too late?

There is a growling roar and the beings around me shout and scream, and I’m thrown to the ground. I slide on the gravel to slam into the base of the altar. My head hits the stone with an audible crack and I grunt loudly. With my magical restraints still pinning me I’m unable to move to protect myself as a second fight ensues.

The blow to my head has reduced my vision to nothing but shadowy blurs. I think I can hear someone yelling my name. And I swear, on the pitiful remaining moments of my life, that it is Seff. But it is a fool's wish. He cannot be here.

“Enough!” Heylor booms and there is a flash of bright yellow, strong enough to pierce even my dull vision. The fight ends, and the crowd parts revealing a handful of beings bound in yellow light. I blink again and again, forcing my eyes to focus on the big beast-like being at the front still fighting furiously against their bonds.

No. No, no, no, nono.

Vylushkiva.Hecouldn’t. Hecan’t.

Seff.

My world goes black.

Seff

One Year Ago

Against my desperate pleasto the Gods the sun rises.

From where we hide from the world in the shallow cave set into the hills, I watch the sky turn from pitch black, dusted with stars, to what looks like a stunning watercolour painting. The yellows and pinks bleed into purples and blues, smudged with streaks of clouds.

It’s beautiful.

The traitorous sun paints the canopy of the Whisper Woods below our hillside cave in stunning colours.

A true work of the Gods.

I hate it.

I hate what it means for me, and the man still snoring lightly against my chest.

I hate the tendrils of light that curl into the otherwise dark cave, and the delicate specks of dust that dance in the beams.

Because with each second of the returning day, it steals the moments I have left with him. And I already wasted so many last night.

If only I left the gathering when the urge to run hit me, rather than trying to hold out, grit my teeth and bear the rising irritation in me. We could have had more time.

If I had, I wouldn’t have arrived angry, overwhelmed and overstimulated and I wouldn’t have lashed out, forcing Rafe to talk me out of my petulant tantrum before we could be together.

I took it out on him.

I don’t even remember what I said. I was just angry at the world, and he was the first safe place to unleash it.

Anger at the series of fuck-ups at work that have somehow become my fault.

Anger at the constant—unasked for—responsibilities of the pack.

Anger that Nanna B, the one being in the pack who truly understands me, has moved to the Shifters Home. The beginning of the end.

Anger at the restless ball that bounces within me constantly.

Anger even at him. That he’s here again. Taunting me with brief glimpses of peace before it’s ripped away again.

I almost didn’t come. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know if I could walk away again. It felt—it feels so brutally un-fucking-fair.

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