Page 86 of Omen of ice
It sounds anything but simple. I don’t want to talk about this, but I also don’t want to head back yet. Tania needs time to cool off, and so do I. Maybe spending some time with my uncle can help.
“How is Delkin able to become a wolf? He has no magic, right? I thought the Fae with animal souls were tied to magic?”
Benj frowns. There’s an odd look in his eyes—a cross between annoyance and regret. “Delkin’s wolf isn’t connected to magic. It’s who he is. Part of his soul.”
“What about you? Do you have an inner animal?”
The lore tells us that Fae outside the royal line can transform because they’re wild. Parts of their souls are still untamed, belonging more to nature. I should hate that part of myself, but I don’t. I love the feeling that comes from running untethered and free.
And who knows what old stories are true? The more I learn about our history, the less I understand the life I’ve lived.
Benj grins and stands. “Would you like to see?”
“Is it a wolf, like Delkin and me?”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he backs away. One step. Two steps. Three, four, five… Benj drops to all fours, and his body contorts in a macabre mangle of stretched flesh and twisting bone far more gruesome than I’ve ever seen. The sound of it turns my stomach. My own change is relatively quick. I suppose someone on the outside looking in might hear things, might be repelled by the sight, but I don’t think it’s anything as involved as this.
Slightly smaller than the tragon, Benj now stands covered in white scales, staring back at me with deep-blue eyes. A massive wingspan, fourteen or so feet, arches above us, flapping once and nearly sending me to the ground.
He huffs, then shakes his tremendous body before letting go of his dragon and slipping back into his Fae form. He grins. “Better than Del’s, right?”
“Impressive,” I say. “I’m a little jealous.”
“Don’t be. The wolf is noble. He’s a leader, as are you.”
“That’s debatable.”
He laughs and slaps a hand against my shoulder. “We should get—”
A horrible wail shatters the forest, shaking the ground and causing the trees to shudder. I sprint in the direction of the camp, and I’m only halfway back when my leg gives out.
Benj, who’s right on my heels, drags me upright. “You’re bleeding.”
I am, but it’s not my wound. “Tania.” The name is both a curse and a prayer on my tongue. “The camp is being attacked.”
29
Keltania
I duck as the creature strikes again, crashing through the trunk of a tree like it’s nothing more than a twig. Splinters scatter in all directions, several impaling my hip and torso. I bite back a scream and tuck myself behind the nearest rock to take inventory.
A spike of pain courses through me, and I touch the smallest of the three barbs protruding from my body. “Damn it.” They’re too deep to simply remove. Two in my side and one in my hip, my leg is bleeding, and I’ll have several brightly colored bruises when this is over.
If we survive.
I turn to the nearest tree and wedge my foot into the bark, but when I lift my arms to begin climbing, the air rushes from my lungs and my vision blurs. The splinters of wood still embedded in my side make it impossible to haul myself up.
Limping, I throw myself behind a massive boulder as the snakelike creature rounds for another go. This time, it catches sight of Delkin perched on a branch a few feet from me. The monster races for him, and Delkin smiles, spreading his arms and free-falling from the tree. Just before he hits the ground, he changes, a white wolf dropping in place of the tall Fae.
With massive fangs and a threatening snarl, the elder Fae is a sight to behold. The creature backs away several feet, and Delkin whirls. He catches a mouthful of my tunic and hefts me up the tree, to the lowest branch. “How badly are you hurt?” he asks after changing back.
I grimace as I try to straighten my leg. There’s blood down the front of my leathers, and I don’t have to inspect the splinters to know they’ve embedded even farther in my side. “These wounds won’t do much to a Fae. I’m sure Valen is fine.”
“I’m sure he is. I was asking about you.”
“I doubt it’ll kill me.” I bite down hard against an involuntary shudder and survey the ruined camp. “What is that thing?”
“Yorger. They used to be docile, except during mating season. But the landscape, the ecosystem—it’s all changed now. Apparently, they’ve become predators.”
