Chapter 56
Wind whipped through Hekla’s hair as she clung to Kritka for dear life.
She winced as the grimwolf leaped over a fallen log, jostling her on his back.
Her arse would be black and blue by the time they rejoined the Forest Maiden and their warband.
But it didn’t matter. With the woods zipping past and her prosthetic arm snapped back into place, Hekla was filled with more hope than she’d felt in days.
They might just make it to the battle of the heartwood.
Eyvind yelped beside her as the grimwolf he rode upon lurched around a tree, nearly unseating him.
Your mate yelps like a pup, teased Kritka, launching them over a small stream and onto the opposite bank.
“Not my mate,” Hekla muttered, her teeth clanking together with the impact. A dozen curses climbed up her tongue, but Hekla would not let them free.
You smell of him, said Kritka in her mind. Did you finally breed?
“No!”
Why not? Did he not perform the mating strut to your satisfaction?
“I am not speaking of this with you right now,” she grumbled.
Though irritated by Kritka’s invasive questions, Hekla thanked the gods the grimwolf had arrived in the very nick of time.
She and Eyvind had stood dumbfounded as Kritka greeted what Hekla now knew to be his pack.
The wolves had nuzzled against one another, greeting him with licks and excited yips.
To go from facing near-certain death to that level of… well…cuteness had been rather a shock.
Eventually, Kritka had turned his attention on Hekla, bounding toward her and damned near knocking her to the ground. Through their mind-to-mind connection, he’d filled all the gaps in Hekla’s knowledge.
After being fully awakened, the Forest Maiden had called all her living creatures to her—including the grimwolves she’d sent beyond the woods in search of the Protector.
And once their warband had been fortified with several new arrivals—bears and other beasts who’d fled the woods to avoid being Turned—Kritka had snuck back to the waterfall to find Hekla and Eyvind.
He’d found their scents and tracked them along the river, and in a moment of striking good fortune, he’d found his bonded human and his pack, all in the same place.
The wolves’ joyful reunion was short-lived.
Kritka had relayed the urgency of their situation—one day remained before the full moon, and they needed to get to the north of the woods quickly.
He’d ordered Hekla to climb on his back, and a shaggy, black grimwolf had begrudgingly allowed Eyvind to do the same.
Now they loped through the woods with a pack of thirty grimwolves, and Hekla’s blood sang with anticipation. Soon they would reunite with their group and be one step closer to finishing what they’d started.
“How much farther is it?”
First, we must pass beneath the black arch and skirt the skarpling burrows.
Hekla scowled at the vague reply, though she supposed she should expect nothing less from a wolf.
On they ran, ducking low under branches and leaping over stones, until Hekla’s heart soared and her cheeks hurt from smiling.
It seemed as though the trees bowed away and whispers of encouragement chased them.
The frosted ground was soon dusted with snow, growing gradually deeper until Kritka’s paws sank up to the knee.
It wasn’t long after that they were reunited with their crew.
And what a crew it was. Hekla’s eyes widened as she took in the Forest Maiden’s creatures—grizzled cave bears and ivory frost foxes, quilled skarplings and mountain reindeer.
There were hundreds of them, all gathered in the grove, predator and prey, standing side by side, unified by their singular goal.
Clusters of what Hekla presumed to be forest spirits—tiny and verdant winged women—zipped about overhead, keeping order in the ranks.
“We might stand a chance,” Hekla murmured as she slid off Kritka.
“Hekla!” Gunnar started toward her, but Thrand Long Sword got there first, tackling her in a hug so fierce, she thought her ribs might crack.
“You’re alive!” he said, swaying her from side to side before releasing her so Hekla could greet Sigrún. Over her Bloodaxe sister’s shoulder, she saw Gunnar helping Eyvind off his wolf’s back.
“You kept her safe,” Gunnar grunted.
“I believe,” Hekla said haughtily, “I kept him safe, thank you.”
“Aye, she did,” came Eyvind’s voice, gruff with emotion. “I owe her my life.”
“I suppose that makes us even,” said Hekla, unable to keep her mind from the explosion in Istré’s square.
Eyvind had shielded her with his fireproof cloak, saving her life.
Hazel eyes met hers, and it was like a loose thread unraveling inside her.
What would have happened had the wolves not interrupted that kiss? Perplexed, Hekla looked away.
And blinked in surprise.
The Forest Maiden had grown and changed, now standing as tall as a human.
Her green-tinged skin held a tree bark texture, and a bushy white fox tail peeked out from behind skirts of moss and grass.
But it was the pack of grimwolves rolling on the snow around the Forest Maiden that shocked Hekla most of all.
The Maiden threw herself into the enormous pile of wagging tails and lolling tongues.
“My children,” the Forest Maiden laughed, scratching ears and soft bellies. “My babies. You’re returned to me.”
For a moment, their group forgot about the obstacles ahead of them and allowed themselves to enjoy this small miracle. Gradually, their laughter faded as their minds drifted to the hours and days ahead.
The Forest Maiden climbed to her feet, fox tail twitching, though a smile stretched wide across her face. The forest spirits zipped around her antlers, making it seem like a swarm of large green insects buzzed about her head.
“You have fled your homes,” said the Maiden, gazing at the animals gathered in the grove.
“You have hibernated and hidden and lain dormant until conditions were right. And now the time is upon us. Tonight is our chance—perhaps our only one—to reclaim the woods as ours once more. No longer will we wither in our dying forest, helpless as the leech Turns our kin against us. Tonight, we will take it back.”
The grove erupted in animal sounds—braying reindeer and yipping foxes; howling wolves and growling bears—all entwined with human war cries. It livened Hekla’s blood. Readied her for battle. So many days and weeks had led to this confrontation, and now it was nearly upon them.
“Let us fly!” bellowed the Forest Maiden, her voice booming like thunder. “Let us fight! Let us take back the woods!”
Kritka appeared by her side, and Hekla climbed onto his back, her left hand sliding into his fur and clasping on tightly. She was dimly aware of the rest of Kritka’s pack presenting themselves to Sigrún and Gunnar and Eyvind’s warband.
And then they were gone, loping toward the heartwood on the backs of grimwolves.