Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

He said through a mouthful of lengthening teeth, “Little human. How I admire you.”

A pulse off to my right, lighting up the forest around us.

It was Gordo, and the ground was shifting underneath us, a dull rumble that turned into something much louder. Green light shot along the ground, the earth groaning as Gordo called its magic to him. I saw symbols flash beneath my feet, arcane lines that formed stars and crescent moons, ravens that flew underneath me trailing green sparks in their wake. The earth burst apart underneath us and Richard snarled in my ear, teeth snapping, biting, and—

He was knocked off his feet as the ground broke beneath him, cracking and rolling. Everything was green, flashes of lights that boiled my blood and sang to something deep within me.

Richard grunted as he fell away from me, and in the chaos and confusion, I heard the screams of the wolves. I didn’t know if they were mine or the others. I fell to my knees, the pain glassy and bright, stomach twisting in vertigo.

A wet hand grabbed my arm and pulled.

I followed blindly.

We were deep in the trees before I could focus.

Thomas led me away, away, away.

“We have to go back,” I croaked out, but I didn’t try to get away.

He said, “Trust me.”

And how could I not?

I ached everywhere. My back was torn to shreds.

He said, “You must listen to me.” His breath rattled in his chest, a wet sound.

The stars were bright above.

The trees swayed.

He said, “You will be needed now. More than ever. The weight of the Alpha can be a dreadful burden, and whoever carries the weight of it on their shoulders must be able to stand strong and true.”

“No,” I said. “No, no. You—”

“Ox.”

The wind rippled through the leaves.

There was an ache in my head and heart.

“They will need you,” Thomas said. And then he stumbled, going down to one knee, grip tightening on my arm. He groaned quietly, head hanging down as blood dripped from his mouth. I pulled my arm from his grasp. I reached down under his arms, latching my hands in front of his chest. He was substantial and coughed harshly as I lifted him up, my back screaming with the strain.

The sounds of the earth splitting apart continued from behind us, but they were distant.

We continued on.

He said, “All of them.”

“What?”

“The pack. They will need—”

“Why?” I asked.

Thomas took a deep breath and turned his face toward the sky. I wondered if he could feel the moon, even though it was hidden. “I knew you were different,” he said. “When I first saw you. Even if it hadn’t been for Joe, I would have known.” His eyes flashed red again and again. It called to something in me, and I thought my blood was boiling underneath my skin.

“If I’m anything,” I said, “it’s because of you.”