Page 143 of The SnowFang Storm

Everything had slowed down, seemed to take forever, but experience said it was happening in seconds. The shapes in the distance got larger, swept along the ground in a lumbering four-legged gait.

War-forms.

Jun and Cye, both in human form, barreled into the kitchen, panting and already drenched in sweat. Jun took one look at the wolves in the distance and went bleach-white. Cye went snow-gray. No sign of Burian, but there wasn’t time. No sign of Cerys either. Maybe he was with Cerys.

“Winter!” Sterling summoned my attention with a bark.

We melted into human form. Just a few seconds to decide what to do before the wolves were on the house. He looked at me, his expression terrible, and I knew what he was asking.

“They’re clearly not here for the leftovers,” I told his expression. Females, unless warriors in explicit service, were never in a fight. I should have joined Cerys (wherever she had gone to hide). A Luna only fought if there were absolutely no other options.

There weren’t any other options, and Sterling had already done that cruel math. No more options, no escape, no room. Fresh out of everything, no more in stock, all on backorder, unknown delivery date.

Sterling said, “I happen to like leftovers and don’t want to share.”

“Well, fuck them then. That turducken is mine.” War-form wolves wanted to come for my pack, my family and my leftovers? I didn’t think so.

There was a low table by the porch door. On it was the slender, polished box containing his claw-gauntlet. He opened it, and pulled the gauntlet onto his hand.

“Oh hell,” Cye whispered faintly.

“Time to go.” I headed onto the porch. The wolves were almost here.

It had been a long time since I had taken on war-form, and the rage bubbled up from within all the painful parts of me, all the fury and anger and the world washed red and hot. Visions of my father and my brother and silver and anguish and betrayal, words and pain snapped through my clouded brain until I fought through, surfaced and focused on the target in front of me.

It didn’t matter who they were or why they were coming. They were here.

Sterling’s large, silvery-blue war-form stomped to my side, growling, maw open, fangs broad and slightly curved in the light.

He had spectacular fangs.

Twang!

One of the war-forms stumbled into the snow from the shot, tumbling end over end, but then was back up again within a breath.

Garrett was on the roof, bow in hand.

Twang!

We moved onto the edge of the patio.

An auburn-red war-form stomped up abreast of me, and on the other side, Jun’s blacker-than-night shape. Cye growled, flexing his claws uncertainly, smelling of a mix of war-form fury and absolute quivering terror, and Jun reeked of fear but determination.

Sterling howled his challenge.

My rage bubbled high, burst over the dam and I shot forward, hungry for blood and fur and fangs and claws.

I crashed into one of the wolves with a snarl. His claws dug into my back, I twisted my head and plunged downward. Fool had left his neck unprotected! Amateur. He was bigger than I was, and stronger, and heavier. I clamped down on his neck, fangs dug through his leathery hide and blood washed over my tongue. He yelped and whined, and I bore down. Blood gushed down my throat. I shoved him aside, and he fell, gurgling and grabbing his throat.

A war-form flew past me and impacted a tree, slashed across the abdomen. Blood splattered the snow and my fur. The shadow of Sterling’s form moved over me. He spun and grabbed a second wolf, I pounced on the one he had just dropped. He clawed at my belly, I shot forward and clamped my teeth over his throat.

He flung me off him. I twisted in the air, hit the ground on all fours—

Jun, where was Jun? Where was Cye?

I risked looking around as an arrow impacted the first wolf I had attacked. His throat had closed over already. I cursed my shorter female fangs and weaker jaws. These were big, heavy, leathery warrior wolves, not random thug scrubs, even if they made some stupid mistakes with their necks. They’d heal superficial damage. I darted left to stay close to Sterling. They were trying to separate us and pick us off.

Cye’s auburn form shone like a lick of flame against the snow as he spun another war-form around with a slash of claw. Strips of flesh tangled up in the air like ribbons.

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