Reign of Shadows (Reign of Shadows, #1)(65)

I whirled around, forgetting about my dagger and withdrawing my sword. Only one advanced. I should be able to dispatch it quickly. Being with Fowler hadn’t made me that reliant. I wasn’t weak. Sivo’s lessons weren’t forgotten.

I braced my legs, and adjusted my hand on the leather-bound grip, ready to swing high when a great furred body launched over my shoulder in a rush of wind. The tip of the tree wolf’s long tail trailed behind it, swiping at my cheek as he passed.

The wolf was free. The dweller screamed as the wolf’s razor claws buried in its chest and brought it to the ground. My sword lowered as the beast mauled the dweller. Blood sprayed everywhere, the scent thick, the taste of metal in my mouth.

I backed away slowly, trying not to call too much attention to myself. The snarls faded to low rumbles, and there was a heavy thud as the wolf released the dweller, dropping it to the ground.

“Easy, good boy,” I whispered, feeling the animal’s stare on me. Its paws padded toward me on the soft soil. “We’re friends, remember?”

I held myself utterly still, not daring to breathe, trying to project absolute calm. “I helped you.” My voice cracked a little and I swallowed. “You helped me. Let’s just go our separate ways.”

The tree wolf stopped directly in front of me, panting heavily. His head almost reached my waist, confirming he was still young. A full-grown tree wolf could weigh a few hundred pounds, but this one was perhaps half that size.

The fog of his blood-soaked breath filled the space between us, reminding me that for all his youth, he was still dangerous. The dweller’s nearby corpse served as a reminder, too.

His entire body radiated heat. Beneath the coppery-sweet scent of blood, the pungent aroma of his fur made my nostrils twitch.

I exhaled as time slowed to a crawl. My nerves stretched taut as this beast panted in front of me. His tail swished against the ground lightly. Sivo had described their unusual tails to me before. They were strong and wiry, but also long, curling into a loop. The tails unfurled when needed, gripping branches and helping them maneuver through trees.

I shifted on my feet and Digger huffed, not missing the movement. “What do you want?” I tried to sound like I wasn’t worried he was about to devour me.

He continued to pant, his tongue darting out to lick his lips wetly. Angling my head, I considered why he wasn’t attacking me. It couldn’t matter to a wild animal that I had helped him. Could it?

Deciding to find out, I lifted my hand toward him, pausing at his soft growl of warning. Dropping my hand back to my side, I sighed. “So we’re not friends? Then what are you still doing here?”

A pair of dwellers shrieked, calling to each other, the volley of shrill screams bouncing off the forest.

Digger shifted, a low rumble swelling up from deep in him.

“See,” I said. “They’re coming. Time to go.”

I stepped to the side and my boot struck something hard, sent it sliding over the ground. Bending slowly, I recovered my dagger. I stuck it back in my belt and started to edge away. Tension knotted my shoulders, and I half expected the wolf to pounce on me, but I had to risk it. I couldn’t stay here.

He must have reached the same conclusion. As though he had no interest in me anymore, he turned with a soft whine and loped away, leaving me unharmed. Air shuddered past my lips, but I didn’t linger.

Turning, I moved out. Alone again.

I nestled deeper into the fur, my fingers delving into the toasty-warm blanket. Insects hummed around me. A bug whizzed past my head, large enough to create a breeze. I didn’t even flinch, simply burrowed deeper. The languor of sleep clung to me, clouding my head and tempting me back under.

I sighed, a smile curving my lips. With one hand, I searched for Fowler, chilled fingers seeking the firmness of his skin, the hard curve and dip of muscle and sinew, all that life and vitality that was supremely him. But there was only a pelt of fur, which moved, lifting with rhythmic breaths under my seeking touch.

My heart lurched in my chest as the reality of where I was—where I wasn’t—crashed over me. Not in Mirelya’s warm cottage. Not beside Fowler.

I was Outside. Up a tree. And when I last closed my eyes I had been alone.

I jolted upright. A low growl rumbled loose from the great ball of fur beside me, strangely almost like a whine. Clearly, the beast did not approve of my movements.

I jerked back, quickly losing my balance. The belt yanked hard at my waist, the only thing that stopped me from plummeting to solid ground. I dangled in the air for a moment, arms flailing, my stomach screaming in protest from the belt digging into my middle.

The wolf shifted his weight, branches and leaves rustling as he settled in to observe my antics. I waited for a moment, debating whether to cut my belt and risk the drop, or climb back up and share the branch with a vicious animal.

The branch shook for a moment as he scratched himself.

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” I murmured.

His paw dropped back on the branch with a soft thud. His panting breath filled the silence between us, his only response.

My hands gripped the strap of leather as though it was a lifeline. Arms straining, I used the belt, pulling myself up hand over hand. With clawing fingers, I hauled my weight onto the branch, pushing all the way up until I was sitting astride it.

Gasping for breath, I untied my belt and squared my body in front of him, resting my back against the thick tree trunk. I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees, marveling that this wild animal would come this close and not want to eat me.