Page 58 of Claim the Light
For a moment, I sense the deep well of power writhing within me, a force so great that I feel like I’m merely skimming the surface.
It scares the fuck out of me and I clamp down on it, focusing only on this one, simple task.
Turn the babies. Gently.
I’ve barely finished my command when the mother jolts upward.
I leap backward, away from her clambering legs as she shifts up into a kneeling position. Her eyes have flown wide and the concentration on her face is intense.
It happens so fast that I’m not certain I did what I needed to do. My heart is in my throat and it feels like the next seconds extend forever as I wait and hope that I helped her and didn’t harm her.
Then, one after the other, two small fawns slip onto the undergrowth. Both head-first. They’re partially covered by the birth sac, but their heads are clear. Their eyes are closed and their legs are curled beneath them.
I hurry farther backward, giving the mother space as she immediately turns to them, nudging both of them before she starts licking them all over.
The little ones gravitate toward her, turning their heads and cracking open their eyes. She nuzzles them, making soft, bleating sounds before she rests down on the ground again, continuing to lick their hides.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.
Also… maybe a little gross…
My nose screws up for a second before I quietly laugh at myself.
More than anything right now, I feel lighter.
The chill in my spine has vanished. Death won’t be claiming these creatures today and for that, I’m grateful.
I turn to Micah, but he’s facing away from me, his back stiff.
“Sophia!” His call is low but urgent. “There are more of them. Incoming. Fast.”
A second later, I hear it, too: The thunder of approaching hooves, many of them, moving through the trees at speed.
Within seconds, the edges of the clearing are filled with green bodies and then we’re surrounded.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Every space we could escape through on foot is suddenly occupied with deer, their green hides melding with our surroundings so that it appears as if the forest has suddenly thickened into an impenetrable, chest-height, circular wall.
Micah holds his hand out, a sharp movement, one that tells me not to come closer to him.
A second later, a large stag steps into the clearing right in front of him.
The stag’s antlers are long, each tine appearing sharper than the one before, and his hide is sleek, glistening a little more brightly than the other animals’.
Tossing his head and snorting, the stag paws the ground with his front hoof. His focus on Micah is intense, his antlers following a sharp arc in Micah’s direction.
“Whoa, okay,” I whisper, edging away from the new mother. “That’s an unhappy daddy.”
The mother’s head has risen and she gives a soft bleat. Her babies are snuggled into her side. Instinctively, I know that she won’t want us to disturb them. They’ll be in the middle of bonding and it will be a critical time for them.
Micah hasn’t moved. He calls quietly back to me, “The stag must think we’re a threat. We need to move away from the doe and her babies.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say.
But as I speak, a row of deer emerges into the clearing in front and behind me, all of them angling toward my location. It isn’t a big space and now there’s a risk that we’ll hit the animals if we release our wings.
“We need to fly,” Micah says. “But there isn’t space for both of us. Hold your wings tight. I’ll come to you and then we can—”
