Page 129 of Flirting with Darkness

THESE GENTLE WOLVES

by Clare Sager

1

ACROSS THE WALL

When I reached the wall, I wondered if maybe—probably—this was a terrible idea. I squeezed the knife tucked into my belt. It wasn’t a dagger—it was far too crude for that‚ but it was iron.

In a country where iron was illegal, and for a woman about to cross the wall into faerie, it was worth more than all the gold in the kingdom.

The wall itself didn’t look like much, just craggy hewn rock some seven feet tall, grey and blotched with yellow and white lichen. The stories Ari’s papa used to tell us said it was infused with iron to keep the fae from crossing over.

Bullshit.

It hadn’t stopped that fae lord from coming and taking her, had it?

Last night, as he’d stood over us, ready to take her, she’d looked up at me tears in her eyes together with desperation.

I knew she saw tall, strong Rose, her protector and friend. But I couldn’t save her. All I’d had were words. I only hoped they weren’t empty ones.

“I’ll find you.” I’d whispered it to her, and now I said it out loud.

This time the wall was the only audience to my promise.

I had the iron knife, a steel dagger, and food. On a whim, I’d grabbed a small sack of flour. Stories spoke of invisible creatures beyond the wall, and I figured a handful of flour would reveal any such beasts. I’d managed to scrounge an old tent from one of the market-sellers, and I’d pulled out the little pouch of coins that I was saving towards a second dagger.

Saving Ari was more important.

She had no one else. She needed me.

That thought circling, I squared my shoulders and placed my hands on the wall.

Cold. Hard. Rough grain under my fingers. It felt like any other stone wall. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d been expecting—a magical barrier pushing me back perhaps—but notnormality.

This adventure was getting off to a good start.

Grinning, I dug my fingers into craggy handholds and climbed up. The wall was so old and the stones so rough with no mortar in between, I scaled it in moments and lifted my head for my first glimpse of faerie.

The sky over Alba—or Elfhame as the fae called it—continued clear and blue, the sun edging towards noon. Scrubby grassland rolled away across the hills, and dark woodland pooled in a valley ahead, creeping up the slope beyond.

It didn’t look so different from Albion. Maybe the stories were all exaggeration.

Admittedly, the fae lord who’d taken Ari had made her disappear in a puff of darkness, and I’d never heard of a human doing such a thing.

But I had iron.

I got the blade from the wise woman who lived on the edge of Briarbridge, the one whose house we always ran past as kids. I went to her at first light, and she understood why I wanted protection from the fae and didn’t want to leave my friend at their mercy. She pulled up a wonky old floorboard and gave me the blade with the words, “Iron cuts through flesh. Iron cuts through fae. Iron cuts through lies.”

Good luck to the fae who came between me and Ari.

Iron was hard, but my determination was harder. I wouldn’t give up until she was safe.

Left and right, I cracked my neck, then patted the iron blade. “Here goes.” I swung my leg over the top of the wall and jumped down.

I landed in Elfhame.

Sun overhead. Grass and mud underfoot. It didn’t feel any different to home.

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