Page 51 of Feral

“Oh my god, Fraser!”

I pulled her down the short set of stairs with me and into the open field on the right side of the train.

“Slow down, you’re hurt!”

I was indeed, and the faster I walked, the more the wound burned, which meant that the blade had been spelled or coated with something that could make a small wound worse for a supernatural like me.

But I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“I’m fine, lass. Weres can take a stabbin’ better than Mundanes. We need to get to a town and call my brothers.”

“Is there a town nearby?”

“Aye, but yer gonna have to pick up the pace.”

“I’m doing my best!”

“If ya didn’t insist on that damn bag…”

“My legs wouldstillbe shorter than yours no matter what size my bag was!”

Well, she had me there.

We tromped through the field until we came to a small house with an older man sitting outside, smoking his pipe. Under the tobacco, I could smell the fact this was a werewolf, though I had no idea from what clan. It didn’t matter though because the second he saw the stripe on my tartan on my kilt that said I was second in charge of the clan, he would be beholden to help me.

I let my glamour fall for him, exposing not just my true form but my kilt as well and the man jumped up from his chair.

“Och, ya frightened the shite out of me!” his eyes locked onto my tartan and grew large. “Uh, what can I do for ya?”

“We need a car,” I said.

“I have a truck. She ain’t much but she’s at yer disposal.”

“Much thanks, I will ensure it is returned to ya.”

“It’s my duty, sir. My great gran was a MacDonald.”

I nodded at him in thanks as he led us around back to the truck.

Honestly, “not much” was a very kind way of putting it but we couldn’t be picky. I was more than a little surprised to find that the rusty thing purred like a kitten.

“I can drive,” Daphne said.

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

“You’re bleeding, Fraser, and I’ll not have you dying on me!”

I growled and wandered over to the passenger side.

The old man chuckled.

“Mates, they can be a real pain in the arse.”

“Yes, they can.”

I directed that at Daphne, who stuck her tongue out at me and adjusted the seat so she could reach the pedals.

“Much thanks,” I said again.

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