A mist forms, moves. Someone steps through it.
My breath hitches. Harek’s stance tightens.
A tall, veiled woman emerges. She’s dressed in layered robes of charcoal and plum, and silver tattoos curl over her cheekbones and throat. Her eyes shimmer with magic, violet and storm dark.
There’s something familiar about her, though I’ve never seen her before.
Harek exhales slowly.
She smiles faintly. “Hello, pup.”
Then her gaze shifts to me. “And hello, young huntress.”
My blood turns to ice. “Who are you?”
“Serel. Though he already knows that.”
I turn to Harek. “How?”
“My parents. We met her on a hunting trip once.” He steps slightly in front of me, shielding. His stance is protective, but not hostile. He seems to respect her. Maybe even fear her a little.
“Did you follow us?” he asks, low and even.
Serel tilts her head. “If I had, would you have noticed?”
His silence is answer enough, and a shudder runs down my spine.
I hold still, studying her. There’s something unnerving about the way her robes barely move despite the wind, how her presence seems to quiet the very forest around her. Not malevolent, but watching. As if she’s here for more than just words.
“What are you?” I demand.
“I’m from the group that helped your pack control shifts.” She studies me. “You have your mother’s strength and caution. It’s a rare combination.”
I blink. “You knew her?”
“I fought beside Tyra once,” she says simply. “When she still believed the curse could be outrun.”
A pause.
I swallow. “Which curse?”
She doesn’t answer.
“What are you doing here?”
Serel’s expression shifts and tightens, like she’s folding something sharp behind her eyes. “I came to ask for your help because something is coming. In fact, it’s already begun.”
“Something always seems to be coming lately,” I say carefully. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
Serel’s mouth twitches like she expected that answer.
Harek crosses his arms. “Why now? Why follow us into neutral woods instead of sending a raven to the pack? Why come tous?”
“Because ravens can be intercepted and neutrality is an illusion these days.”
“Whyus?” Harek repeats.
She stares at me, as if that explains everything.