Page 88 of Fated to Monsters

“It’s okay,” I tell him and shake off the creepy hands of the wendigo. “He’s on our side.”

Dash comes into the wendigo's view. "I'd appreciate it if you refrained from killing me for the third time."

The wendigo raises its hands. “A promise is a promise. I am a man of my word.”

“Where’s Pippa?” I look past him and swallow down the fear that I may have been too late in my return.

What is minutes at home is much longer here.

“Waiting.” He tilts his head in the direction he just came. “I gathered what I could, but there aren’t many of us that remain. And those that do are in hiding. It wasn’t easy to convince them of something I was skeptical of myself.”

How bittersweet that my friend is alive, but so many others are not. We have all lost someone, and hopefully soon, after one final battle, the violence will stop.

“I understand,” I say while following this demonic creature through the woods.

Wes hurries to join me at my side and Dash takes up the rear.

I flit my attention to Wes and dart my gaze to the semi-helpless phoenix behind me.

Wes sighs but falls back, knowing damn well that Dash shouldn’t be the one left exposed.

I reach toward Dash and tug him closer to me. He's safest at my side where I can protect him from anything that may come his way. It's risky having someone else to keep my eyes on, but it's a risk I'm willing to take to give him a front-row seat to Parla's execution.

“I’ve never come across a phoenix before,” the wendigo says over his shoulder. “Assuming that’s what you are.”

“The one and only,” I confirm. “Sydney translated some of that text when you were taking your good ol’ time molting. According to that book, you’re the only phoenix in existence.”

Dash’s eyes widen. “Whoa. I don’t know if I should be proud or sad.”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re allowed to be both.”

“We’re coming up on a group of hunters.” The wendigo motions to a large boulder off to the side. “We can wait it out here.”

“How many are there?” I ask him, a theory popping into my head.

“Three,” he says, his voice harsh.

“There’s four of us.” I settle my sights on Dash. “Three. You can stay here.”

He frowns but doesn’t protest.

“Honestly, I can take them all if you’d rather—”

The wendigo holds up his hand to stop me. “Like taking bread from a baby.”

If only he knew the kind of bread they had in Arthlia. He would surely lose his creepy little mind.

“Leave one of them alive.” I slide a dagger out of my pants and turn it around in my hand, familiarizing myself with the blade. It’s been too long since I properly held one, and yet it feels completely at home in my grasp. Taking a steadying breath, I look at each of the men standing here with me.

The three unsuspecting soldiers march right near us, the same way the others had done. Their postures are stiff and rigid, their movements almost identical to one another. Before I can even fully step into their line of sight, the wendigo rushes toward them. He snatches two of them and bashes their heads together before tossing their lifeless bodies aside. He clutches the other by the neck and drags him over to us.

“Um.” I shove my dagger back into its sheathed position. “That works, too.”

Wild-eyed and panting, the remaining soldier kicks his feet to try to free himself. He opens his mouth, but the wendigo shoves his hand over it and silences his cries for help.

“What’s this all about?” Wes steps toward me. “What do you want with him?”

I exhale. “I’m not sure. I want to try something.”

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