Chapter 6 #2
But as I eat the meat in small, careful bites—my stomach too unsettled for more—I keep glancing around the clearing through blurry eyes, feeling confused.
The next morning, I wake up on a branch to see three dead rabbits arranged neatly at the foot of the tree below me.
“Luna?” I call down weakly, my voice still rough. She has already descended and is delicately eating from one of them. “Three this time? You’re really outdoing yourself.”
My head pounds as I carefully climb down, each movement sending waves of dizziness through me. The fever has lessened slightly, but my skin still burns hot, and my hands shake as I grip the branches.
“How are you even catching these?” I ask, slumping heavily to the ground. “They’re almost as big as you are.”
Luna ignores me, focused on her breakfast. I don’t have the energy to question this further; my body needs the protein too desperately. I skin one of the rabbits with trembling fingers and build a small fire.
This pattern continues for four days. Each morning, after climbing down from whatever tree I’ve managed to haul myself up into, I find impeccably killed game waiting—rabbits, birds, once a fat squirrel.
My fever slowly breaks, the infection in my leg finally responding to the steady nutrition.
The nightly climbs get slightly easier as my strength returns, though I still have to rest frequently during each ascent.
“You’re amazing,” I tell Luna on the fourth morning, holding her close as she purrs against my chest. We’re sitting at the base of an old oak where I spent another uncomfortable night wedged between branches. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
On the fifth morning, I wake in my tree to find a massive wild boar lying dead directly below me.
I nearly fall from my perch in shock. “Luna?”
She is curled up in my lap, fast asleep. There’s no way—absolutely no way—my cat killed a boar that outweighs her by at least a hundred pounds.
“Luna, wake up.” I shake her gently, my mind racing. “Did you see who left this?”
She stretches, yawns, and looks down at the boar with the same mild interest she showed the rabbits.
Ice water floods my veins despite the lingering fever. Someone’s been hunting for me. Someone’s been watching me sleep in these trees, leaving food every day, and I’ve been too delirious to figure it out.
Despite my fear, my stomach growls loudly at the sight of all that meat. I’m still weak, still fighting the infection, and my body still desperately needs protein. Whoever—or whatever—is stalking me hasn’t hurt me yet. Maybe it never will.
“We need to be careful,” I whisper to Luna as I carefully climb down. “But we can’t waste this.”
I skin and prepare portions of the boar, constantly glancing around the forest. Every shadow could hide a predator, and every sound could signal danger, but the meat smells too good to abandon.
“Just enough to get stronger,” I mutter, building a larger fire than usual. “Then, we move fast.”
I eat quickly, stuffing cooked meat into my knapsack for later, all while my nerves scream that I’m being watched.
That night, I climb higher than usual in a thick-branched pine, wedging myself deep into the canopy with Luna. Sleep comes fitfully, broken by every owl call and rustling leaf.
I’m jolted awake by Luna’s angry hissing. My eyes snap open to find Henrik’s ugly face inches from mine, his breath hot against my cheek.
“Surprise, freak.” He grins before shoving me hard off the tree branch.
I crash through smaller limbs on my way down, each impact driving the breath from my lungs. I hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, my injured leg screaming in protest. I cry out in pain, rolling to absorb the impact as best I can.
Laughter echoes from above as Henrik drops down gracefully, followed by two other warriors I recognize from the pack: Denzel and a scarred brute named Kane.
“Look at her,” Kane sneers as I struggle to my feet. “She really thought she could escape.”
“Alpha Gareth sends his regards,” Denzel adds, baring his teeth at me. “You’ve caused him a lot of trouble.”
“Because of you, Harper was rejected by someone Alpha Gareth wanted for her, someone of high blood,” Henrik explains. “Did you really think you could get away with that? That any of us would let you get away with insulting her?”
My upper lip curls despite the fear twisting in my gut. “Harper got rejected because of me? Did any of you morons think that maybe she got rejected because not everyone thinks the sun shines from her ass?”
The words earn me a kick behind my knee from Kane, and I stumble to the ground. “Watch your fucking mouth!”
I land on my injury and hiss in pain.
“The Alpha said to make it look like an accident.” Henrik looks at Denzel. “We can leave her body for the wild animals to eat.”
“What fun would that be?” Kane cracks his knuckles. “I want to see the freak beg first.”
Struggling to my feet again, I draw out my knife with a shaky hand, but I know it’s useless. Three fully trained warriors against one sick woman with a barely healed leg injury?
“Stay back,” I warn them, though my voice cracks.
All three burst into laughter.
“Oh, she’s got a little knife,” Kane says mockingly. “How terrifying.”
“This’ll be fun,” Henrik says, starting to circle me. “I’ve been wanting to put you in your place for years.”
“I won’t beg,” I announce, raising my knife.
“You will,” Denzel promises. “The Alpha wants us to make you suffer.”
They spread out, surrounding me. My vision swims from lingering fever and exhaustion, but I force myself to stay upright.
“Luna, please,” I whisper desperately, looking up at where she’s still perched in the tree. “Run.”
Instead, she hisses and launches herself at Henrik’s face, claws extended.
“What the hell?!” Henrik stumbles backward as Luna’s claws rake across his cheek, drawing four parallel lines of blood. “Get it off me!” he roars, swatting at her.
“Luna, no!”
His hand connects with her small body, sending her flying across the clearing. She hits a tree trunk with a sickening thud and goes completely limp.
“Luna!” Rage explodes through me, burning away my remaining weakness from the fever. I lunge at Henrik with my knife, managing to slash his forearm before he can react. “You bastard!” I scream.
Henrik backhands me across the face. The blow sends me sprawling, my knife flying from my grip.
“Should have minded your own business, freak,” he snarls, blood dripping from his wounded arm.
The three of them advance on me as I strain to get up. My vision is blurred from the blow, but I still see the death in their eyes.
“Any last words?” Kane asks, flexing his claws.
I close my eyes, thinking of Andrew, of Selene and Daciana, of Luna’s still form by the tree. At least I tasted freedom, however briefly.
A roar like thunder explodes through the clearing.
When I open my eyes, a man stands between me and the warriors.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair and an aura of deadly grace that makes my breath catch despite everything.
Even injured and feverish, I can’t help but notice how devastatingly handsome he is—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and an air of dangerous authority that makes the warriors step back in obvious terror.
Denzel goes pale. “We were just—”
The stranger moves faster than my eyes can follow. One moment Denzel is talking, and the next his head is rolling across the forest floor.
“Who’s next?” the man asks coldly.
Henrik tries to run. He makes it three steps before the stranger catches him, snapping his neck with casual efficiency.
I flinch.
Kane is backing away, his face white with terror. “Please, I was just following orders—”
“I know.”
The stranger advances on him, but Kane suddenly lunges forward with desperate courage, his claws extended and dripping with something dark.
Those claws rake across the stranger’s abdomen, tearing through his shirt and leaving deep gashes. The man staggers toward him, the color draining from his face.
“Wolfsbane,” Kane pants triumphantly. “You’re not so—”
His words end in a gurgle as the stranger’s fist punches a hole through his chest.
But the damage is done. The stranger collapses to one knee, pressing his hand to his bleeding stomach.
“Shit,” he mutters, his voice strained with pain.
I stare at him in shock, my fevered mind struggling to process what has just happened. This man—this impossibly attractive, clearly powerful man—just killed three trained warriors to save me.
But now he’s dying from wolfsbane poisoning, and I have no idea who he is or why he risked his life for a nobody like me.
I scramble toward Luna’s still form by the tree. My hands tremble as I gently touch her small body, feeling for any sign of life.
A weak meow escapes her throat, and relief floods through me so intensely, I nearly sob. “Luna? Luna, come on, girl.”
She lifts her head woozily, blinking those amber eyes at me. There’s a small cut on her forehead, but she’s alive. She’s okay.
“Thank the Goddess,” I breathe, scooping her up carefully. “You scared me to death, you brave little idiot.”
Only then do I turn my attention to the stranger who just saved my life. He is slumped against a tree trunk, his face pale and drawn with pain. Dark blood seeps through his fingers where he’s pressing his hand to his stomach.
“Oh no,” I mutter, setting Luna down gently and rushing to get my knapsack. “Please don’t die on me.”
Wolfsbane poisoning. I recognize the symptoms at once—the gray pallor, the way his breathing has become labored, the faint tremor in his hands.
For shifters, wolfsbane is a death sentence if not treated quickly.
The stronger the shifter, the faster it kills, and there is no doubt that this man is incredibly powerful.
The stranger’s eyes flutter open as I rummage through my supplies. They’re the most striking blue I’ve ever seen—like cobalt touched with ice. Even poisoned and in pain, there’s an intensity to his gaze that makes my mouth drop open.