Page 42 of Edge of the Wild

Oliver gasped and opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the cold stones of the walkway, both hands clutched over his ears, his face freezing – because it was wet. He blinked and felt fresh tears leak from his eyes and trickle down his cheeks. His throat ached.

The hot touch on his face proved to be Erik’s hands, both of them cupped around his jaw. His gaze was panicked. “Ollie.”

“What?”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“You were screaming.”

“I was?”

Erik tilted his head, peered at each of his eyes in turn. “Are you sick? Are you in pain?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Though he’d returned to the present, Oliver still felt detached; like he was floating caught between the knowledge that he was conscious and actual consciousness. As if he wasn’t firmly rooted in his own body.

“What’s wrong with him?” That was Lord Kjaran’s voice.

Erik ignored him. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

Erik put his hands beneath his arms and lifted him up as if he weighed nothing. Oliver swayed a moment, but found his balance.

“There was light,” he said. “Blue light. It was everywhere. And someone was with me, there.”

“Someone?” Erik’s brows shot up. “Ollie, did you take ice rose?”

“No.” Oliver frowned, insulted. “No, when would I have?” The next moment, the edges of his vision sparkled and crackled-blue-white. The rushing returned to his ears.

“Ollie.”

It washere. That presence, it was right–

Overhead, a rustling. Then a clap, like a gloved hand against a horse’s neck. Cold air whipped through their hair.

Oliver’s vision faded.

Kjaran: “Gods!”

Erik: “What thefuckis that?”

Oliver had tipped forward against Erik’s chest without meaning to – could hear and feel the rapid thunder of his heart against his cheek – and he turned his head. Managed to blink his vision mostly clear – in time to see something pale and large against the roiling dark of the sky before the mist swallowed it. That one glimpse spoke of movement, the thrust of massive wings.

Erik stood again, and dragged Oliver up with him, a supportive arm around his waist. “Kjaran, what was that?”

“I – I don’t–” the lord stuttered. “An owl. We have snow owls here, it must have been.”

“That was no bloody owl,” Erik growled.

“No,” Oliver murmured, swaying toward oblivion again. “It wasn’t.”

~*~

The smothering wash of blue didn’t drag him under again, but Oliver lost a few minutes. He returned to himself fully – total awareness slamming into him hard enough to leave him gasping, light and color and sound all sharpening painfully – as Erik was all but dragging him back down the switchback stairs. His toes skimmed the edge of each stair, Erik’s strong arm locked around his waist.

“Wait,” he said, when he could.

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