"I'd fucking attempt to fly if it was the difference between getting the hell out and staying here." His voice was grim, determined.
"Then let's get the hell out of here."
He leapfrogged forward. I kept one hand on his arm to steady him, but the going seemed painfully slow. My awareness of the other men continued to sharpen; they were closing in on us far too fast. If we didn't get to the third truck soon, they'd be on us.
"We're moving too slow," I said.
"I'm jumping as fast as I fucking can," he practically spat.
"It's still not fast enough. Stop."
He did. I twisted, grabbed his wrist, shoved his arm around my neck, then bent, dragging him over my shoulders and holding his thigh to keep him steady.>I climbed out, locked the car, then closed my eyes and imagined the seagull shape. For a heartbeat, pain flared, but unlike when I tried reaching for the wolf, it was a distant, insubstantial thing that didn't hold the strength to prevent the change.
Power surged, sweeping around me, through me, changing and molding my body, forcing the limbs of a human down into those of a gull. And the mere act of changing when I actually wanted to felt so good that part of me raged again against those who had contained my wolf. Then the anger was swept away, because I was leaping skyward.
I followed the long dusty road north, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, except the roar of the surf far below me. This part of Australia was a wild and empty place.
Eventually, a warm light began to flicker through the darkness. I swooped toward it, and the light became a campfire burning brightly near the shoreline. Meaning no one was likely to notice a curious seagull.
There were three men sitting near the fire. Their laughter rode across the night, filled with anticipation. One of those men was Denny, but the other two I didn't recognize.
I dipped a wing and swung around to the left. There was another man standing behind a rusting hulk of machinery, and a fifth on the opposite side of the camp, squatting next to a huge metal tank. Inside the tank lay Evin. He was trussed up tight and wasn't moving. Despite my fears about his involvement in whatever was happening to me, I found myself hoping he was okay. That he was merely tied and sleeping rather than unconscious.
Or, worse still, dead.
I swooped upward again and swung back to the campfire. Five men. Even for me, those were pretty tough odds. If I was to have any hope in this fight, I'd need to even the numbers out a little.
I swung around again and headed for the man near the machinery, landing on one of the metal struts then waddling toward him. I was downwind of him, so any sound was being carried away rather than toward him, and he didn't pay me any attention. His gaze continually swept the night and his posture was alert, tense, but he had a beer in one hand, and the smell of alcohol was sharp enough that I was aware of it even in bird form.
Which meant, I hoped, that his reflexes would be crap.
I took to the air again and flew across to the next rusting hulk, where I landed and quickly changed back to human form. My flimsy shirt had all but shredded, and a good bit of breast was on show.
With any luck it would be enough to distract the men, because the firelight would eliminate any possibility of shadowing.
Although - ideally - I'd like to take this guard out without being seen.
I turned around and padded down to the end of the rusting tank. With my back pressed against the still-warm metal, I peered around the corner. The guard hadn't moved.
I wrapped the shadows around me and dashed across the short distance between us. As I neared him, he spun around, his nostrils flaring as he scanned the night. He could obviously scent me, but he couldn't see me. I gave him no time to react, simply hit him hard and fast - chopping him across the throat then kneeing him in the balls - and he went down like a ton of bricks. I let him slump to the ground, trusting the sand to dampen the sound of his fall, but I caught his beer can before it could clatter against the metal.
After looking around to ensure that no one had seen anything, I grabbed his arms and dragged him into a sitting position, propping him against one of the machine's struts. I put his beer beside him then stepped back. If the others glanced this way, they might think he was just sitting down. Which was good. But I needed to ensure he couldn't actually get back up.
I bit my bottom lip and scanned the rusting hulk, seeing nothing useful in the way of rope or wire. So I spun and walked back to the tank. Again, there wasn't anything I could use, but several yards away from the tank sat the semirotten wooden remains of an old shed of some kind, and inside, the snaking remains of the building's wiring. I ripped several yards free then retraced my steps back to the guard.
I tore off his shirt, used that to gag him, then trussed him up.
One down, four to go.
I shifted shape and took to the sky again, flying back to the guard on the other side of the encampment. He was still squatting next to the tank, but he was within view of the campfire, so if I took him out his fellows were likely to notice he was missing.
I circled around for several minutes, wondering what the hell I was going to do - whether I should just take him out and bring the odds down to a more manageable level, or whether I should continue to pick them off one by one. After all, they were all drinking, and they'd surely have to wander off for a pee sooner or later.
I swooped around for yet another pass and spotted their cars. They were parked halfway between the whaling station and the dusty road, off the track leading to the station but not hidden.
I flew toward them. There was no guard here, but the one watching Evin would have been able to see them if he stood up.
It was a mistake - and one that just might work in my favor.