Page 61 of Through the Wicked Wood

I can’t leave now, I decide. I’ve come too far to turn back and no matter what Sorin’s plans are, Samaria deserves her chance at an Awakening Ceremony. And the Stones don’t belong to anyone but the Enchantresses. Sorin, included. If I get them in the hands of an Enchantress, a Dyrsjel, my hands, then maybe Mother Gaia will end the blight. If I leave now, that eliminates that possibility and I can’t stand the thought of not even trying. I can’t repeat my same mistakes.

I won’t.

In the midst of a growing storm, a plan begins to form. I will obtain the Stones, perform the Ceremony for Sam. I’ll bide my time until I can do what I do best.

Disappear.

Closing my eyes, I think of Galen’s earlier words on how to tap into the Dyrsjel part of my mind. He made it sound so easy, as he makes everything sound so easy.

“Consider the wolves your guides.”

My guides.

As I lay there with my eyes closed, I envision my mind opening, splitting in two. I picture Ruse and Alaric stepping into it from either side. I see their thick coats; Ruse’s pure obsidian and Alaric’s gray and white. Their long limbs and enormous paws. I imagine their eyes; amber and a pair of green. I hear myself speak to them and watch as they obey my every command.

I envision us running.

Running through the woods as we just had. The three of us in perfect unison as we make our way up and over the obstacles of the forest. My heartbeat thunders in my ears but it isn’t just mine. Three heartbeats pounding in sync with one another, molding together as one.

My breath catches as my eyes snap open. The two wolves stare down at me. I hadn’t noticed they’d moved until now. Running my tongue across my bottom lip, it’s still puffy and I wince at the memory of the cavern. Of Sorin’s mouth on mine.

Standing, I shake off the memory before stretching my hand toward Ruse. A pull of resistance stretches taught in my chest. She doesn’t budge. So, I don’t budge either.

Pushing away the rising defeat in my heart, I raise my hand and close my eyes. Again, I envision Ruse in my mind. She steps closer, I see her thick coat glisten under the moon. Another step. I reach my hand out and picture running it over her back. In my mind, she doesn’t shy away.

Opening my eyes again, I put my hand out and this time speak aloud, “Come, Ruse.” I keep my eyes locked on her. Standing my ground, just as she stands hers. Sweat begins to form at my upper lip and around my temples despite the cold. The mental strain reaching out to Ruse sends a shiver over my body. Yet, I hold strong. Narrowing my gaze, I lower my chin slightly. She shifts her weight between her paws, her eyes darting away from mine for a moment.

Then, a movement so subtle I nearly miss it. A step forward. Then another. And another. She creeps forward until she’s close enough to bend down, meeting me face to face.

She dips her large head down further until it rests upon the hand I still have suspended in the air. I let out the pent up air stuck in my lungs and crack a weak smile. The tug I’ve become familiar with whenever the wolves are around intensifies at Ruse’s submission. The resistance I felt earlier snaps, a rush of energy shifts in my chest. As if my blood has changed course, like a river suddenly flowing backward. My fingertips glow an iridescent white as I rake them through her thick coat.

Then, a voice.

The same angelic voice that spoke to me in Loxley. The one that told me to follow Alaric.

Her voice.

Ruse.

The bond has been made.

A smile dances on my lips, but I’m too tired to give way to the elation I feel. But as Ruse nestles into me, her memories flood me in a tidal wave of emotion. I see them both watching me in the forest, outside of my cabin. Their anger for the guards on the river makes my legs shake. How badly they were afraid for me, then how badly they wanted to kill those men. I stumble backward, the new emotions and memories too much for my body to handle.

Sinking to the ground, the memories continue to flash behind my eyes while Ruse and Alaric settle in at my sides. Their howls are broken and winded in my mind as I watch myself leave my cabin and head to Copenspire with Sorin. Their cries break my heart, as they frantically search the woods for me. Until finally, Alaric is in my mind. Showing me how he found his way to Loxley. How, despite the wards, they were able to break through, stopping at nothing until I’d been found. The panic they felt when they thought I’d disappeared again when we left for Wickersham sends my own heart in a wild flurry of beats. Turning to face him, I scratch behind his ears.

“I’m here now,” I whisper. He licks my cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

* * *

My body still screams for more rest as Alaric nudges me awake. The blackness of the night sky slowly morphs into the dim gray of twilight. Rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes, I stretch my aching limbs before rising to my feet. Despite the morning dew coating the moss and ferns in tiny water droplets, I find myself warm and mostly dry. A benefit of two large wolf companions, I suppose. I reach out for Ruse and am relieved that she allows me to stroke the top of her head. Wasn’t a dream, I tell myself. Then my mind crashes to the night before. A tumbling of highs and lows.

Sorin in the cave.

Samaria in her tent.

Sorin’s secret.

My heart lurches but the ache quickly dissolves to anger. Another hidden part of the plan. But I remind myself that today, I must play nice. For Sam. For her, I will make it through the Wicked Wood and retrieve the Stones. For the Enchantresses I’ve failed to help all these years, I’ll do my best to be cordial.

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