Page 5 of The Witch's Spell
Rage and . . . fear?
In my chest, my heart picks up its pace, as if I’m the one experiencing whatever it is that has madeFaolan so angry.
And his fear... I’ve never felt that before. I’ve never known Faolan to be afraid of, well, anything.
The adrenaline surging through my body has me out of my rocking chair and yanking on my muddy boots before I can think better of it.
“Where are you going?” Harrison calls from the landing on the staircase.
“Something’s wrong with Faolan,” I say. My words come out rushed, breathy with what is slowly becoming panic.
What’s happening? Is it Alden? But they’ve been getting along so well...
I hurriedly clasp my cloak about my neck and yank the door open, then find Harrison speeding out ahead of me.
“I’m coming too,” he announces.
And even though I don’t find the words to say it, I’m extremely grateful. Harrison is always there for me, even when we’re speeding toward potential danger.
Together, we race through the winter landscape. The sun has chased the night’s freeze from the air, and the frost has melted, but the air is still so cold that I can see my breath as I head for the trees. My belly slows me down. My feet and back ache, but I barely pay attention to that now; all I can focus on is Faolan.
And our bond, which is still flooded with anger—so much anger I can hardly sort through it to make sense of what else he might be feeling.
I know the general area where the men have been felling dead trees, and I head that way, Harrison trotting along at my feet. At first, I worry that I won’t be able to find them,that Harrison will have to track them down with his keen sense of smell.
But then a sound rips through the trees, making me freeze in my tracks.
Snarling. Growling.
The vicious sounds of not just one wolf, but of two.
Another wolf. A shifter?
Now my feet move faster. I race through the trees and their shadows, my boots slipping in mud from the melting snow.
“Aurora!” Harrison calls after me. “Stop! It could be dangerous!”
But I know Faolan would never hurt me. And he’s in trouble.
Up ahead, figures move through the trees, shadows in the shape of enormous canines. As I get closer, I see Alden. He’s holding an axe, and his mouth is set in a grim line, his brow furrowed.
When he sees me, his expression changes, morphing into fear.
“No!” he yells at me.
But I’m already rushing into the little clearing, stepping out of the trees and into the wolves’ line of sight.
They both have vivid blue eyes and midnight fur; in fact, they look so similar that at first it’s hard to tell them apart. But then I notice the scars along one wolf’s shoulder and neck, where the fur grew back silver instead of black, and I know he’s the one I’m here for.
“Faolan!” I yell.
Still snarling, he backs away from his mirrored counterpart, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the stranger. His lips are pulled up in a ferocious snarl. Saliva gleams on his sharp white canines.
When he steps within reach, I throw my arms around his broad neck, feel the rumbling originating from deep in his chest as he growls.
The other wolf has stopped its snarling and watches us with curiosity, ears upright and tipped forward. Only then do I notice a third wolf, this one with russet fur. It steps out of the trees behind the stranger, eyes a brilliant yellow hue, like aspen leaves at the height of autumn.
The anger coursing through our bond is still there, but it’s shifted slightly, morphed to give way to more fear. Why does Faolan fear these wolves? And why are they here? Do they intend him harm?
