The Hidden (Shadowed Wings #1)(12)

We’re in a packed dirt clearing, surrounded by houses with a tall cliff on one side and a forest on the other. I bolt past the wreckage I just caused and snake between a pair of houses. Shouts to stop sound off behind me, but I push my legs faster, hoping I can make it to the trees about twenty feet away. I don’t know why I feel like once I’m in the trees, I’m safe. I have no clue where I am or where I’m running to. These shifters acted like they’d never heard of America, and they said shit about a gate and something about Ouphe—whatever the fuck that is—so I don’t even know if I’m on the same planet anymore.

The trees look to be some kind of massive ancestor of a pine. I’ve never seen the redwood trees in California, but my imagination tells me these could probably be dead ringers. I’m panting and working hard to pull oxygen into my lungs, and I debate trying to hide behind a huge trunk and catch my breath and bearings for a minute. I don’t hear or see anyone following me, and I wonder if they were in too much shock. If they were, it probably won’t last long, so I push myself to keep moving.

Twigs, rocks, and other sharp things dig into my feet, and I wince with every footfall. My eyes bounce around my surroundings while simultaneously trying to pick the least painful path through the trees. My body feels run down and hollow, and I thank the adrenaline and fear still pumping through me, as that’s all I am currently running on. I try to pull my wings back in, but they won’t listen. I debate climbing to the top of a tree and trying to fly away, but I figure I’m harder to find here amidst the trees than I would be in the sky.

I step on another rock and bite back the yelp that wants to escape. Tears well up in my eyes, and I can’t help but chuckle humorlessly at their appearance. I crash into a makeshift building and brush it off, but a rock sets me over the edge? I look around and try to find a safe space to stop and catch my breath. I need to come up with a better plan than run and hope they don’t catch me. I look up into the insanely tall trees and decide I’d probably be safest up in the branches. The lowest offshoots from the trunk are easily fifteen feet above my head, and I ponder for a minute how the hell I’m going to get up there.

I mentally slam a palm against my forehead when I remember I have wings. Fucking hell, Falon, get it together. I spread out my ebony additions and give a couple test flaps. I crouch a little and then pump them harder, and I have to work hard to keep from whooping in triumph when I’m lifted off the ground and up into the air. I fly like a drunk pigeon but manage to get myself perched on some branches about thirty feet off the ground. By the time I get myself snuggled safely against the trunk and get enough fabric from my canopy dress under my ass to keep it from chaffing, I’m ready to have a serious heart to heart with my gryphon.

I don’t know where the hell she went, but we need to come to some kind of an understanding. She very clearly knows what she’s doing when I’m shifted and she’s in control. I didn’t have any issues with flying as a gryphon—well, not up until the sky shadow attacked us. I need to work hardcore on calling her or connecting or whatever the hell I need to do to master my shifts and winged abilities, because we need to get the hell out of here, and it’s not going to happen without my gryphon stepping up and showing me how to get shit done.

I sag against the tree trunk, the reddish-brown bark digging into my back, and rub my feet. Gradually my labored breathing slows, proof that I need to up my cardio game. The fight or flight that’s been hammering through my veins slowly fades, and with it goes any desire to move from this spot. I’m shrouded by clumps of pine needles the size of my forearm, and I feel hidden and protected. Logically I know I haven’t put enough distance between myself and my captors, and I know with every second I sit up here, they’re probably closing in. Which means I need to move, but I’m struggling to convince my exhausted body of that.

The sun sinks closer to the horizon, and the shadows in the forest wake up and stretch. I wrap my wings around me and breathe my warm breath into the cocoon I’ve made around myself. The temperature is gradually dropping—with the right clothing and gear, it’d be perfect camping weather—however, I’m one ripped up piece of canopy away from being naked, and the cooling air bites at my skin in warning.

Reluctantly I admit to myself that I need to find someplace warmer because this tree limb is not going to cut it for the night. Slowly I stand up, and my stiff muscles protest against the movement. I’m on the verge of unfurling my wings and figuring out how to fly down from this tree, when voices and footfall reach me. I go still.

I focus and try to listen past the sudden hammering of my heartbeat in my ears. They sound like they’re getting closer, and I’m not sure if I can outrun them. I inch closer to the tree trunk and bring my wings up to block me as much as possible. If they don’t look up, I’ll be fine. The voices grow louder. It’s definitely more than one person, but I have no idea how many. I’m tempted to shut my eyes and hope the if I can’t see you, you can’t see me theory works in this case, but I can’t seem to look away from the ground directly below my hiding spot.

Panic races through me as Ryn and a handful of other guards come into view, but it’s challenged by the sudden relief that tries to take over. I swat that emotion away. I shouldn’t care if the bossy gryphon shifter is okay. The longer he would’ve stayed out of commission from our crash, the better chance I would have of getting the hell away from here—wherever here is anyway. I don’t know if it’s empathy or my own shifter side pushing me to have the feels for these captor assholes, but I feel like I’m fighting them and myself, and it’s weird as fuck. I’m typically one to follow my instincts, but right now my instincts and my brain are at war, and I’m struggling to sort through the mess of emotions.