Chapter 4
The wind ripped through the valley, carrying the sharp scent of rain and something else—ozone, like the air before lightning.
Zeke picked his way over the rocky ground, following the dark spots that marked Michelle's trail.
His thin shirt offered no protection from the cold, but his metabolism ran hot enough that it didn't matter.
Raaze was another story. The feral kept his arms folded tight across his chest, shivering when he thought no one was looking.
"Storm's moving wrong," Kraath said, his pale eyes tracking the dark clouds rolling in from the north. The commander's jaw was tight, his usual measured calm showing cracks of concern. "This isn't natural."
He was right. Yesterday had been mild, typical for this season.
Now the temperature was plummeting toward freezing, and the clouds overhead had a strange, roiling quality that made Zeke's skin crawl.
The massive trees that dominated the valley swayed in the wind, their purple-gray bark slick with moisture.
He crouched beside the next blood spot, studying its shape against the pale stone. The droplet was round, its edges clean despite the wind that should have scattered it. Too deliberate. Too controlled.
"She's doing this on purpose. Hurting herself to leave us a trail."
The knowledge sat in his chest like a burning coal, equal parts fury and admiration. It was draanthing brilliant, the one thing he could track no matter what. But if she was bleeding, she was hurt, and every cell in his body filled with fury at the thought.
"Smart human," Raaze said. "Assuming she doesn't bleed out first."
Heat flashed through Zeke's system, rage building like pressure behind a dam. The urge to grab Raaze by the throat was almost overwhelming. He took a slow breath, then another, counting each inhale and exhale until the red edge receded from his vision.
Control. Michelle needs you in control.
The blood trail led them between two massive rock formations. Wind screamed through the gap, whipping debris past their heads as leaves and branches spun through the air. A stone bounced off Zeke's shoulder and he hissed a curse.
Raaze hunched his shoulders, a tremor running through his lean frame. His gaze kept darting to the sky, watching the clouds. When he caught Zeke looking, he straightened and affected his usual bored expression.
"Problem, Raaze?" Kraath's voice held mild amusement.
"Draanthing weather came out of nowhere," Raaze muttered, rubbing his arms before dropping them to his sides. "Getting cold."
They pushed deeper into the valley, following Michelle's blood trail.
The rocks were slick from the rain, every step a gamble.
Vines thick as cables hung between the trees, thorns the length of Zeke's thumb ready to shred anything that got too close.
Even the bushes were hostile—leaves that clinked like metal when the wind hit them.
The wind picked up again, strong enough to make even Kraath lean into it. The commander's dark hair whipped around his face as he studied the terrain ahead, his eyes narrowed against the wind.
Ahead, a flicker of movement that wasn't wind-driven debris caught Zeke’s eye. "Stop," he said, raising his hand.
A spider emerged from behind a fallen log, picking its way across the wet ground.
Krevasta—one of Parac'Norr's native arachnids.
But something was wrong with this one. Its movements were too purposeful, too directed.
Where normal krevasta skittered with random, prey-seeking patterns, this one moved with intent.
And its eyes were red.
Legion-infected. He remembered Beth’s discovery, the way her face had lit up with excitement even as the implications of what it did to the krevasta terrified her.
The spider approached slowly, its eight legs moving with deliberate care rather than animal instinct. Each step was calculated, measured. It stopped just out of reach and looked up at him. Not the random attention of a creature, but focused observation.
“Infected,” Kraath said in a low voice. "Their numbers have been growing rapidly."
The krevasta turned toward Kraath's voice, tracking the sound with unnatural precision, then swiveled back to Zeke. It took a few steps forward, paused, then repeated the motion. The pattern was unmistakable… it wanted them to follow.
Michelle's scent clung to the creature. Faint but unmistakable... that combination of soap and skin and fear that he'd memorized when he'd treated her wounds. But there was something else, something that made the rage stir with new urgency.
Blood. The spider had tasted Michelle's blood.
"It's been with her," Zeke said, certainty settling into his bones. "It knows where she is."
The krevasta skittered backward, then forward again, its agitation increasing with each repetition. Its leg tapped against the wet stone in rapid staccato. It looked toward the deeper valley, where the clouds were thickest, then back at Zeke.
"Following a spider in a storm." Raaze's lips quirked upward despite his shivers. "That's a new one, even for the Voiceless."
The words stopped Zeke cold. He spun around. "What did you call me?"
Raaze shrugged, water from the earlier rain still dripping from his dark hair. "Nothing important."
"What the draanth did you call me?" Zeke took a step toward him, his shoulders bunching. The pressure in his chest built, demanding action.
"The Voiceless." Another shrug, but Raaze's red eyes held a spark of something… amusement? Knowledge? "You don't talk much. People notice."
People. Which people? The garrison soldiers? Other ferals? The way Raaze said it suggested more than just casual observation. Like it meant something. Like it was important.
"Explain," Zeke demanded, taking another step forward.
"Nothing to explain." Raaze's expression returned to its usual bored mask. "You're quiet. Some people find it... weird."
There was something Raaze wasn't saying. But before Zeke could press, Kraath's voice cut through the tension.
"We don't have time for this." The commander's tone brooked no argument. "Storm's getting worse."
He was right. The wind howled through the trees, bending branches until they creaked. The temperature kept dropping. Overhead, the clouds had turned that sick green-black color that meant serious trall was coming. The hair on Zeke's arms stood up as electricity built in the air around them.
The krevasta was moving again, skittering forward a few feet, stopping, looking back at them, then repeating the whole dance. Its red eyes caught what little light filtered through the storm clouds. Its legs tapped against the ground faster and faster, like it was running out of patience.
They followed it through a grove of twisted trees that did draanth-all to block the wind. The ground squelched under their boots and Raaze slipped, grabbing a tree trunk to keep from going down.
The spider led them around a massive chunk of stone, water-carved grooves cut deep into its surface.
The wind bounced off the rock, creating an eerie howling that echoed back at them from multiple directions.
On the other side, the terrain opened up into a wider area scattered with smaller rocks and thick brush.
The krevasta stopped dead, its entire body going rigid. It glanced from Zeke to the path ahead and back again, its red eyes wide as its legs scrabbled against the stone.
A second later the temperature crashed.
It didn't drop gradually; it plummeted like someone had opened a door to the void.
The moisture in the air began to crystallize, not quite snow but ice crystals that hung suspended in the wind.
Raaze cursed and wrapped his arms around himself, not trying to hide his reaction to the cold anymore.
His breath came out in white clouds, his lips turning blue.
Even Zeke felt the cold biting into his skin like thousands of needles. Frost formed on the rocks around them as they watched, turning the already treacherous footing into a skating rink.
"This isn't possible," Kraath said, his usual calm cracking. "Weather doesn't work like this."
The wind slammed into them like a combat shuttle.
Zeke staggered back, his boots sliding on the rock as ice crystals turned into needles, driving into any exposed skin.
He squinted against the assault, eyes watering so much he couldn't see three feet ahead.
The world disappeared into a white hell of screaming wind and flying ice.
"Kraath!" Zeke shouted, but the wind tore his voice away. "Raaze!"
Shapes moved through the white storm—Kraath and Raaze, just visible through the driving ice. The krevasta hugged the ground but even it was fighting now. Its claws scraped for grip on the icy rocks.
Then, a sound cut through the chaos like a knife, seizing every muscle in his body.
It was a scream. High, terrified, and...
"Michelle!"
Zeke ran that way without thinking.
Behind him, Kraath shouted something the wind ate alive. Stone cracked somewhere ahead—a deep grinding that he felt through his boots. Water roared, building into something massive.
Michelle screamed again. Closer. Raw terror ripping from her throat.
Then the flood hit with a sound that swallowed the world.
Sleet drove into Michelle’s face like tiny needles as she dragged herself onto the rock outcrop.
Her broken leg sent white-hot agony shooting up to her hip with every movement, but she managed to flop to her side before the pain made her vision go gray at the edges.
Her shirt was soaked through, the fabric plastered to her skin and doing jack shit to keep her warm.
Behind them, the flood tore through the valley—a wall of brown water and debris that didn’t give a damn what got in its way.