Page 88 of Blood of Wolves

“Aye,” Oddmarr said. “I’d never seen one up close myself until last night, but he’s a skinwalker, make no mistake.”

Erik could only watch, horror like a stone lodged in his belly, as the massive, blue-eyed wolf that was his nephew approached, licked at his hand, and looked up at him with clear recognition.

“Skinwalker,” Erik said, through numb lips.

Leif sneezed. It sounded affirmative.

18

Iron bolts as long as the span of his spread arms whistled through the air again and again, the scorpion crews relentless and efficient. Sels dropped, and were replaced by more. One bolt stuck fast in the great wooden wheel of a siege tower, and it couldn’t move any farther, its crew struggling to pry it loose.

But there were so many towers, crawling inexorably closer to the outer wall. There were too many. No matter how many Sels they felled, more appeared in their place.

Rune twisted a glance over his shoulder, where the black smoke had dissipated. He could see nothing of whatever transpired on the other side of the wall back there. Had Bjorn’s party engaged the enemy they hadn’t sought to find at their flank? Were Sels even now pouring through the palace below him like molten gold?

A shout went up around him, and he turned back to see a flicker of movement out among the Sel ranks. A large flicker of movement.

The soldier beside him said, “Fuck. The trebuchets.”

~*~

“Heh,” Estrid huffed when Tessa pulled up alongside her. “I’m impressed.”

Tessa didn’t bother to respond; wasn’t sure she could have if she’d wanted to, the way her throat had tightened. They jogged down the wide hall that led to the kitchens, the space echoing with the slap of footfalls and the chiming clink of the soldiers’ armor shifting as they moved. The cressets on the wall threw dancing shadows as they passed, so they seemed a company of ghosts bleeding down the hallway.

Don’t think of blood.

“My lady!” Hilda shouted from behind. “My lady, Tessa, wait! You must get upstairs with the others!”

Ahead of them, Revna skidded to a halt, and pivoted. “Tess? No, you can’t–”

With one woman rushing up behind her, and another blocking her path, with Estrid studying her from the side, waiting, watching to see what she’d do, Tessa found her voice.

“Everyone, stop treating me like I’m made of glass!” Later, she would marvel at the pitch and volume of her voice. “We don’t have time,” she continued, as everyone gaped at her – all save Estrid, who smirked. “Are we going to argue, or are we going to fight?”

~*~

Leif’s world was an explosion of scents. Snow, and pine, and ice. The steaming bodies of horses and reindeer.Prey.

No, no.

But…he smelled birds off in the trees, and, way down below the layers of compressed snow, cold earth, and last autumn’s leaf litter. He smelled men, the cleanness of fresh blood, and the putrefaction of festering wounds.

Pack.

He smelled…everything. Absolutely everything. The whole world, in all its shades of black, white, and gray.

Uncle was much taller, now. His voice too loud when he said, “Leif? Leif, is that you? Can you understand me?”

Yes, Leif said, but the sound he made was not words. It was a bark.

He was…that’s right, now he was…

Run.Seek.Hunt.Bite.Kill.

He picked up a scent that left his hackles lifting, a growl building in his throat.Traitor.Enemy.

Ragnar.

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