Chapter 23
The scream slices through the air again, this time even closer. Raw and ringing with terror.
Xavier is already charging forward. “Over here.”
I hurry after him, my boots quick on the path, already swinging the strap of my rifle toward me and raising the weapon.
The trees thin out and we break through the clearing, the same one where I found Poppy picking flowers, when I wanted to form a connection and then Fiona ushered her away.
The teen and I have barely spoken since.
She keeps her head down at base and doesn’t look at me when she passes me in the dining hall.
We stumble upon a terrifying scene: Poppy, backed up against a boulder, arms out, palms flat as she tries to ward off the enormous animal in front of her.
Either I’m hallucinating, or that’s a ridgehowler.
I’ve only ever seen one of them in my life. Ridgehowlers are enormous wolves that live high in the mountains, rarely venturing to lower altitudes unless their food runs out. They never hunt alone, though. Only when they’re starving and desperate.
This one is mangy and gray. Female, from the looks of it. The females are always bigger. A low growl vibrates in her throat as she circles the frightened teenager.
“Take the shot,” Xavier orders.
I don’t hesitate. I line the ridgehowler in my crosshairs, aiming for a headshot, but at the very last second, the animal circles again and my bullet connects with the shoulder.
A high-pitched howl echoes through the air, that haunting wail that gave the ridgehowler its name.
But this howl is laced with pain. Yelping, the wolf staggers backward for a second, front paws buckling from the impact of the bullet, but although blood stains her fur, my miss only makes her angrier.
The ridgehowler whirls toward her prey again.
Poppy screams, but Xavier has already reached her.
He throws himself between the girl and the wolf just as it’s about to lunge at her.
The ridgehowler pounces on Xavier instead, jaws snapping.
Her teeth sink into his forearm, but Xavier is strong.
He slams his boot into the wolf’s chest, trying to kick her off.
I glimpse the flash of pain in Xavier’s dark eyes as the ridgehowler violently jerks her head, and as a result, Xavier’s arm.
“Darlington,” he shouts.
Pulse racing, I raise the rifle again. I see the blood dripping down his arm, the sharp teeth in his flesh. This time I opt for the bigger target. The chest. It takes three bullets before the ridgehowler finally releases Xavier.
As the wolf collapses on the grass, I run forward. I see the animal’s body crumple, still twitching a little before finally going still. Its fur is soaked in blood. So is Xavier’s arm.
Poppy crouches against the boulder, her face pale. She’s frozen, as if she’s paralyzed from fear.
I shove the rifle to my side and rush to Xavier’s side. “You okay?”
He manages a half-hearted smile. “I’m good.”
“Your arm is not good,” I disagree, queasy at the sight of it.
I shrug out of the long-sleeved shirt I’m wearing over my tank top and quickly wrap it around his arm to create a makeshift bandage. I pull it tight to stop the bleeding, triggering a pained curse from Xavier.
“We need to get you to Medical.”
“It’s fine,” he insists in that typical soldier way, brushing off any accusation that he might, indeed, not be fine.
I step toward Poppy and hold out my hand. “It’s okay. The ridgehowler’s dead. You’re safe.”
Her mouth opens, then closes, as if she’s too shaken to speak. Finally, she takes my hand, allowing me to help her up to her feet.
Her worried gaze shifts to Xavier. “Your arm…” Her voice trembles.
“Still attached to my body,” he assures her.
That summons a shaky laugh from Poppy.
“What happened?” I ask, giving her a once-over to make sure she wasn’t hurt during the attack on Xavier. “Where the hell did a ridgehowler come from?”
“I don’t know. It just lunged out of the bushes.” She points toward the thick overgrowth nearby. There are bluebonnets scattered all over the ground. She must’ve dropped them when the ridgehowler startled her.
“Come on, let’s go,” I tell Xavier. “We need to clean up that arm.”
“My mom can heal it.” Poppy’s gaze is glued to the blood-soaked shirt around his arm. “I’ll let her know we’re coming.”
When she goes quiet, I assume her veins are glowing beneath her sleeves as she alerts Fiona to what happened.
We start to move away from the dead ridgehowler when we suddenly hear a faint growl.
For a moment, I think it’s the animal I just killed, but then I realize it’s coming from the bushes. I use my rifle to push aside leaves and shrubbery, and jolt in surprise when I find a pair of yellow-gold eyes staring back at me.
“What is it?” Xavier calls from behind me.
“A ridgehowler pup,” I answer without looking at him. My eyes remain locked on the animal’s. I don’t think it’s preparing to attack, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable turning my back to it. “That’s probably why she attacked. Poppy, you must’ve come too close to her pup.”
The wolf backs away from me, hissing and growling low in its throat. He’s almost entirely white, save for a patch of red around his left eye.
“There’s a baby?” Poppy darts over and tries to push past me.
“Not quite,” I say, barring her with my arm. “Judging by his size, I’d say he’s close to a year old.”
“Then why was he still with his mother?”
“A lot of pups stick close to the pack until they’re fully independent. Especially in areas with scarce food.”
I glance at the dead mother, then back at the orphaned ridgehowler. This entire mountain is crawling with dangerous predators. Chances are, this young wolf will be torn apart by something bigger and meaner the moment we leave.
My hands itch with the urge to beckon the ridgehowler closer, try to make friends with it. But then what? There’s no way anyone’s letting me bring a ridgehowler back to the Dagger.
“We have to help him.” Poppy sounds like she’s about to cry.
Xavier sees our faces and barks out an expletive. “No way. Let’s go.”
“But he’ll die if we leave him out here.”
“Circle of life. Let’s go,” Xavier repeats.
I give Poppy a look of half-hearted reassurance. “He could probably survive on his own. Look—he’s got teeth. Big ones. And he’s not dependent on his mother’s milk. He should be okay.”
“But—”
He cuts her off. “Listen, kid, it’s a wild fucking animal. Wouldn’t be fair to try to domesticate it.”
“Xavier’s right,” I say gently. “If we did that, we’re stripping him of the instincts he needs to stay alive. He belongs in the wild.”
She looks like she wants to keep arguing, but finally, she lets out a defeated breath.
I pull her away from the bushes, leaving the frozen, growling wolf to its own devices.
I don’t know if he watches us go, but I force myself not to look back as we hurry out of the clearing, leaving the dead ridgehowler and her orphan in our wake.
I still haven’t paid a proper visit to the medical bay since I got to the Dagger, and I didn’t expect my first visit to involve Xavier’s mangled arm courtesy of a ridgehowler.
The hospital is smaller than I expect, just a handful of rooms, and only one operating space, which Fiona says is rarely used. With a healer on-site, there isn’t usually a need for surgery, and for minor ailments that would waste a healer’s time, they keep a supply of regen balms and ointments.
“Where do you get it?” I ask as we follow her into a room lined with hospital beds. Three on each side, with gray curtains separating them. “The regen, I mean.”
“Jasper,” she mutters in response. She’s barely looked at Xavier since she met us in the medical wing. I’m surprised she even answered Poppy’s SOS once she learned Xavier Ford was the patient in question.
“Our favorite smuggler,” Xavier cracks.
“Your favorite smuggler,” I correct. “You’re the one who stayed up all night partying with him.”
“He’s funny.” Xavier glances at the stone-faced healer. “A lot funnier than anyone else in this place.”
Fiona marches toward a bed and stiffly gestures for Xavier to sit. His sleeve is torn from where the ridgehowler got her teeth into it, flaps of fabric hanging off him. Without a word, she grabs a pair of medical scissors and cuts the sleeve off at the shoulder.
I wince when jagged chunks of flesh are revealed. The wound is still oozing blood, but not too badly. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but infections can get nasty if a wound is left untreated.
“How are you standing around cracking jokes when your arm looks like that?” I demand.
He just grins. “Honestly had worse.”
Fiona rubs her hands together and goes to sit beside Xavier. “Poppy says you shoved your arm directly into a ridgehowler’s jaws?”
He shrugs. “It was about to sink those jaws into your kid.”
Fiona would clearly rather be anywhere but here, but it’s as if a sense of honor is driving her actions. She voted against letting Xavier out of the cells. Gray told me. Now she owes her daughter’s life to him. The internal moral dilemma must be eating her alive.
“This shouldn’t take long,” she says.
Undeterred by the blood, she firmly plants both hands on the gash.
I was healed by a Mod for the first time at the Command base. Ellis, who’s working undercover there, healed my broken wrist. It was a surreal experience to literally feel my bones knitting back together.
Watching it happen to someone else is just as fascinating. Fiona takes a deep breath as if trying to center herself, drawing energy from within her own body. Her fingers begin to twitch as she closes her palms over Xavier’s muscular forearm.
In her short sleeves, her arms are fully visible, and I watch her veins begin to undulate. The ripples are confined to her arms, though, not like how Hawkins’s entire body glowed when he showed me how to tap into the gold frequency.
Xavier gives a sharp intake of breath, his jaw clenching. He winces when she presses down harder, but Fiona doesn’t apologize.
I watch in amazement as the gash begins to heal, closing up, torn flesh fusing together, but I don’t see the full effect until after Fiona cleans his arm with a sterile gel cloth.
The blood is wiped away and only Xavier’s forearm remains.
Brand fucking new. I can’t even tell where the wound used to be.
His arm is a seamless expanse of golden flesh.
As Fiona stands, Xavier examines his arm, then flexes it.
“Any pain?” I ask him.
“Nope. Good as new.”
He glances at Fiona, opening his mouth to thank her, but her hand slices the air to silence him.
“I won’t pretend to trust you,” she says flatly. “Because I don’t.”
Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Okay.”
“But you saved my daughter’s life today, and for that, I’m grateful.” Her jaw works as she struggles to get her next words out. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”