Page 43 of Crown of Olympus
“Caramel,” she’d said.
Still chuckling, I licked my fingers and kept walking.
Not an hour later, a flicker of movement in my periphery halted my footsteps.
A flash of white to my right. Gone before I snapped my head round.
Then, the sound of paws from my left.
One-two, three-four. One-two, three-four.
I counted. Four steps. Four feet. That definitively ruled out harpies, lamia, the Minotaur, and several of the forest’s other known inhabitants — though plenty of deadly beasts still remained a possibility.
Inhale.
I drew a dagger from my belt and readied my stance.
Exhale.
I braced.
Inhale.
The forest had gone silent. No footfalls, no birdsong. Whatever it was, it was no longer circling me. My stomach dropped and heart raced as I realised, I was no longer being hunted. I had already been caught.
Inhale—
And stop fucking breathing.
I came face to face with the narrowed golden eyes of a gigantic white wolf. He’d pounced and landed right at my booted fucking feet.
The beast was as large as a pegasus. Larger, even.
He leaned forward and snarled so viciously that spittle splattered across my cheeks, his razor-sharp teeth bared in warning. I fought the urge to wipe it away and cocked my head instead, studying him.
Why had he not attacked?
Ever so slowly, I dropped my dagger and raised my hands, hoping it was a universal gesture of submission. He growled, low and guttural as I backed up a single step — but still he did not attack.
Breaking the wolf’s furious gaze, I surveyed him in his entirety. Something in the way he held himself — shifting unsteadily, muscles quaking — made me pause. The beast’s head was enormous, his fur as white as a snow-cappedmountain. It appeared so soft I had the strongest urge to run my fingers through it. Refraining, I looked further down to his paws, as massive as dinner plates, claws as sharp as the dagger I’d just discarded.
I retreated another step, earning another snarl. It was then that I saw it — the reason for his agitation.
A silver arrow protruded from the wolf’s hindquarter. Crimson stained his otherwise pristine coat, blood pooling on the earth beneath his feet.
The beast is wounded.
Fury burned through my veins. I recognised the design of this arrow.
Artemis. Which could only mean her champion had attempted to overpower and forcibly bond him.
Fucking Furies.
I took another slow step, this time to his side to inspect the wound further. The wolf snapped at my face in warning, but he made no move to attack.
“Easy,” I breathed. Instinct guided my hand. There was more to this creature than a simple wolf. “I need to remove the arrow from your leg so your body can heal. It will hurt,” I warned.
He blinked and dropped his head, almost imperceptibly. Taking that as permission,I grasped the shaft of the arrow firmly in my right hand, bracing his leg with my left. I’d have to be quick, lest he suffer more.
