Page 103 of Kingdoms of Night

“Idalno,” he managed, his voice thick and his mouth dry. “Run. I’ve got this.”

She patted him on the arm and then stepped in front of him, shoulders squared. “I amnotabandoning you.”

We’re not either,the wolves added in unison.

No, no. What was she doing? As he shook his head, his ears cleared.

She bowed at the waist to the spriggan. “Forgive us. We are not intruders. Only travelers. We are resting.”

What was she thinking? It could smash her, kill her even. Was she going to offer it tea?

“It was not our intention to intrude,” she continued. “We mean no harm. We will leave now.”

The spriggan stomped forward, the ground quaking and dust rising. “Die.”

It was going to kill her.

Had to protect. Had to fight. Had to claw. Had to bite.

He snarled, letting the wolf reign and his blood burn.

The Change tore through him, his bones snapping, sinews stretching to reshape. Surges of agony ripped through every point of his body, nearly dropping him to the ground. But he thrust himself back up and leaned out of the shreds of clothing and boots that clung to his hind legs. The red scarf fell to the ground.

He staggered forward, crouched, baring his teeth, then lunged. Hawthorn and Buttercup followed.

“Feron, no!” Idalno shouted at him.

His claws struck the ridged wood of the spriggan. A shudder rolled through the spriggan as he clawed and bit. The two wolves deftly evaded its attacks.

Howling, the spriggan swiped at him with its branch-like arms. Its thick woody fists clipped him.

Pain tore through his ribs. He dropped back and rolled away.

Hawthorn nosed him, hard.

Everything blurred. He slashed at the spriggan with his werewolf claws, buried his teeth in living wood and thrashed his head alongside Hawthorn and Buttercup.

Strips of bark tore off. Slivers of wood flew free.

Wailing, the spriggan struck at his head.

He leaped—

Too slow. A flash of white, and the world upended.

Blood filled his mouth.

He thrust out his front paws, catching himself on the grassy ground.

Blinding. Bright. Everything was too bright, and he couldn’t see a damn thing.

He spat, the coppery tang of his own life hanging thick in the air. Twisting around, he rolled back onto his feet.

Closing his useless eyes, he listened. Past the panting and snarling of Hawthorn and Buttercup. Past Idalno shouting. To the massive creaks and groans of the spriggan.

He wouldn’t stop. If he did, she would die. They would die. He couldn’t stop.

The crack of moving wood came from the left. He sprang up again.

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