Prince, stop!Jax stepped in front of him.

The bear roared and leapt onto her two back feet. Her teeth were as long as Killian’s fingers and she would have towered a few feet taller than Phineas.

“Na Lomai’tas tarat ra slit’at. Ritun ra hassinah’tas hi. E’otu shum bet Kak.” The woman hesitated, her mouth halfway open and her brows tightly together. “Na olit shupet delam’aco. Ra bet’tas bet hi. N’olitsha.” As she turned, the bear growled and shook her jowls toward the sky. She turned back to face Jax. “Ra, Shaana honte’aco, noma onk.”

Jax blinked before bowing his head. Then, stepping to the side, he tilted his head toward Killian.I think your time is up. And I’m not staying without you. We should go.

“But—” Killian was torn. He was standing before the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. And she was being protected by the scariest bear he had ever seen. He desperately wanted to know more. This forest was supposed to be cursed. Empty. Evil. She seemed anything but. Jax nudged him in the gut, shoving him back a pace. Killian called out, “I’ll be back tomorrow!”

With a whistle more birdlike than human, she called the rest of the animals to her. As the company disappeared into the trees ahead of her, she looked back, holding his gaze—holding his heartbeat. Then, as she turned, it was as if she released him. His breath slipped out in a rush. Pawing at the dirt once, the elk stared at Killian before following the woman through the brush. Only the bear remained, her cubs already stumbling after the woman’s heels.

Prince. Now.

Killian huffed and whirled, ducking back through the brush into the pine forest. “Fine, Jax. But Iamcoming back.”

The wolf paced beside him through the bushes and the tall pines.As you said.

“And I’m going to find her.”

An unwise decision.

“And we are going to talk.”

Despite a language barrier and a bear barrier.

“Just watch me.”

With a breath of a barking laugh, the wolf glanced up at Killian.Oh, trust me. I mean to.

Chapter 3

Peacekeeping

Raela

Raelametanashiwhippedthroughtheforest, her mind whirling between shock, excitement, terror, and foundationally, confusion. The trees bent their branches out of her way to avoid hitting her face, and the rabbits knew better than to slip under her footfalls. The wind wrapped her in its embrace, surging with her emotions and sweeping through her hair—its attempt to cool her agitation.

A stranger in their forest. One whose hair was only slightly lighter than onyx, with a rectangular head and a fuzzy (dirty?) lower face. Whose skin was the color of the light, muddy sandstone. Was this a man? She had never seen one before.

Light pierced through the trees and blazed onto her path. She sidestepped it. “I don’t want to talk to you. You let him in.” Another beam, this one even wider, blocked the path. Raela stopped short. “You’re supposed to guard and protect us!” As the light surged before her, she could feel it begging for her attention, and she huffed. “Fine. Show me.” She stepped into its rays.

The forest faded in an indistinct haze as the light filled her soul and mind. The light brought joy and warmth and was blinding in its intensity. She thought of the man, and the light responded with images and sentiments that were not her own. She saw glimpses of what the light had seen in him as a small child, then a boy, and finally, a man—the glimpses came almost too fast to comprehend. The light exuded an earnest feeling, trying to convince her of the reasons it had chosen to let him pass. She saw a mother’s love, a father’s pride, the trust of friendship.

The vision shifted. In front of a wall of light, the silhouette of a man strode in. Light shone in the center of his chest, caged and restrained but clear. The beam of light around her heated, nudging her mind.

She gestured at the caged heart before her. “So, he’s not evil, but he’s also not right. Look at his soul.”

A shadowed woman approached the man. Raela frowned. She knew the shadow was her. The woman took the man’s hand, and the cage around him burst, releasing the brilliance … and nearly blinding her. Raela shielded her eyes and dashed out from the beam. “Nope. Not happening.”

The light chased after her, licking at her heels as she stormed toward the grassy area near the cottage. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I will not be touching him.” The beam flicked ahead and blocked the path surrounding her, forcing her to step into it again. Her own shadow-self was suspended in the middle of the beam. A bright blushing pink light pulsed from the center of her chest. But as she watched, it began fading with each pulse until it barely flickered at all, and the silhouetted woman started to stumble. She fell to the ground where she lay unmoving. The shadow man approached, his heart uncaged as he reached for the collapsed woman.

Raela glared and stepped again through the beam, unwilling to see anymore. “My light is fine. Thanks.” The light heated and pulsed angrily, slightly searing her hand. She felt it begging her to look again. Gathering her breath, Raela let out a slow exhale, relaxing her shoulders. “Okay. I’ll … consider what you said. Thank you for showing me.” The light pulsed once more, as if to stomp rather than say a farewell, then it disappeared, leaving the forest darker in its wake.

Raela shook her head as she hurried home. The light had never been so pushy before. The man was disrupting the forest. Having an ancient wolf with him—as she had her bear and her aunties had their elk—proved he wasn’t wholly evil, but was he magical too? The light hadn’t indicated one way or the other. Maybe the wolf owned the man. Or owed him a life debt. Ancients were picky. Raela shrugged to the wind, which tugged on her hair. Some mysteries weren’t meant to be solved.

As Raela burst through the cottage door, her auntie screeched and tossed her cupful of almond flour into the air. “Raelametanashi, what is in your head? Are you the storm? Are you the wind? No!” Her auntie waved the now empty cup at her as she yelled. She was perched precariously on her three-step stool beside the table, yet she still barely met Raela at eye level. Her salt-and-pepper hair curled around her round, pink-cheeked face. The wrinkles on her eyes and mouth were lined with a coating of flour that drifted from above her. Raela restrained a smile as it sifted over the shoulders of her auntie’s rough cotton dress like snow.

She reached a hand to brush off one side of her auntie, schooling her features to look more contrite. “Ach, Auntie, I’m sorry. I just—”