16. Jerrid
JERRID
Footsteps thudded toward them, loud against the ground.
Ava flinched away from him, and Jerrid hugged his blanket tightly as he turned to a red-faced Brynja. The girl’s arms swung angrily at her sides.
“Where is she?” she demanded. “One of the girls is missing. Why has this thing suddenly attacked? Before, it just harassed our dreams, but then you show up, and suddenly monsters are being spewed all over the place. Where did it take her?”
Jerrid eased to his feet, weariness tugging at his limbs. “When was she last seen?”
Brynja glared at him as she shrugged one thin shoulder. “How should I know? I’ve been running around the forest with you being chased by giant wyrms.”
“It was only one giant wyrm and a baby one,” he reminded her, rather curtly. “And if you remember, I was the one who dispatched it for you.”
She snorted. “Your dragon did, you mean. But what about Ylsi?”
Cold fingers touched Jerrid’s clenched fist, and Roar’s eager face peered up at him.
“I saw her!” he said, bobbing up and down on his toes. “She went that way, into the forest. While everyone was screaming and carrying on, she ran into the woods! And shades and salamanders, was she fast! She shot off like an arrow blasted from a bow—”
“Roar,” his mother snapped, approaching from behind. “Leave them alone and come back to your bed.”
“Aw, Mum, I want to help find Ylsi. There might be another wyrm to battle. I have my knife. I could hack its legs off while the dragon eats it whole.” He made a stabbing motion with an invisible blade. “Or I could stab out its eyes—”
“Thank you for the offer,” Jerrid interrupted, the pain in his temple pounding, pounding, pounding. “But your mum is right. You need to stay here. I’ll go find the girl.”
He didn’t know why, but he felt like it was his fault she was missing. Was it as Brynja had said? Had they brought the monster from Eroth and set it loose on the human camp?
Or had it already fled to the north to lick its wounds, and had it been an unfortunate coincidence that Jerrid and Ava just happened to stumble in the same direction?
Not coincidence.
Dragon’s voice was barely a whisper in the back of his mind, and it sounded strained.
Behind him, Ava cleared her throat. “You, um, need to find some more clothes.”
Shades. He’d forgotten about that already. He hugged his blanket a little tighter and looked helplessly around the camp.
“At the rate you’re going,” Brynja muttered dryly, “we’re all going to be naked before the week’s out. Which defeats the purpose of trying to keep you covered, because then we’d all be in the same boat. We can’t keep giving you clothes just for you to rip them apart ten minutes later.”
His face flushed hot.
“I don’t suppose,” she hedged, “you could just…I don’t know…keep some of your scales on you when you shift. You know. Cover up the important bits, for the sake of the girls.”
His face felt as if it were broiling from the inside out. “I, uh, I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“Well, try it next time, please,” she fired back at him. “Because Finnr doesn’t have a wardrobe full of clothes for you to tear through. At the very least, try to take off a few pieces before you shift next time so that we can reuse them.”
Jerrid nodded, but he doubted he had enough control to even attempt it. When Dragon wanted to come out, he came out hard and fast, and Jerrid didn’t usually have enough warning.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised gruffly, “but I don’t usually have enough forewarning to…um, to strip.”
Roar snickered, and even Ava cracked a smile, although she avoided catching his gaze with a studiousness that could only be deliberate.
“I wish I could run around naked like you do,” the boy said with a long-suffering sigh.
His mother cuffed him upside the back of the head. “Oh, be quiet. Go get your father’s spare clothes.”
“Does he have any left?” the boy demanded in something akin to delight. “I hope he doesn’t. Then maybe we could all go around—”
“Get the clothes!” his mother bellowed, and the boy shot off, dodging her hand as he went.
Once Jerrid dressed himself again, he led the way toward the section of forest that Roar had indicated. The child wailed behind them when his mother refused to let him go, but Ava and Brynja followed hot on Jerrid’s heels, ignoring the boy’s demands to be included.
That child…
Jerrid had never met one quite like him, and he’d known his fair share of children back at Fangward. The city was crawling with young scamps getting up to mischief, but Roar put them all to shame.
He shuddered to think what would happen if the boy ever rallied a force of like-hearted scamps to his cause. They’d be a force to be reckoned with, that was for sure.
He sniffed suspiciously at the air in the forest as they slipped between the trunks of the trees.
Thanks to Dragon, he could pick up a lingering scent of the missing girl. It was faint though as it wound between the trunks of the trees. He forced his way through the brittle undergrowth, following the trail of her mildly floral and highly musky smell.
He doubted anyone got regular baths around here.
And they smelled like it.
Not that he could judge. He smelled worse, he was sure, but he was used to his own smell. It didn’t bother him.
Stay focused, Dragon hissed at him. It’s not exactly pleasant in here.
Jerrid lowered his head a little and moved more quickly through the trees.
Behind him, Ava’s footsteps crunched loudly through the dead leaves and twigs.
He debated calling out for the missing girl since they were already making enough noise to announce their presence to every predator within a mile of their location.
Stop! Dragon hissed in his head at the exact moment Jerrid’s own feet froze, a new scent teasing his nostrils.
He sniffed loudly, turning his head in the direction the smell was strongest.
“What—”
He held up a warning hand, and Brynja broke off obediently. This wasn’t the girl. It was something else, something more primal, more…
Wet fur.
Yes, wet fur. Perhaps a shade wolf.
Too far…from the mountains. Dragon’s thoughts grew more strained.
“Myrk hound,” Jerrid breathed to the two girls behind him. “I think there is a myrk hound nearby.”
Ava gasped, her fingers digging into the back of his tunic. “One of Talos’s?”
He shook his head to indicate he didn’t know. A part of him wanted to reach back to take Ava’s hand, to reassure her it would be all right, but that was such a foolish notion.
Need hands for killing, Dragon muttered, sounding a little petulant.
Was he jealous?
Jerrid ignored the seething emotion washing over him and hurried in the direction of the girl’s scent. The myrk hound’s aroma grew stronger too, which meant it might already be stalking the girl. Perhaps it had already found her. If they didn’t hurry…
He broke into a trot, carving a path through the undergrowth for those following him. They couldn’t be far ahead now—the girl or the beast.
He skidded to a halt after circling an unusually large tree that split in the middle and arched in separate directions toward the glowering night sky above.
A dozen yards ahead of him, a dark shape with an arched spine spun to face him. Jerrid crouched, baring his teeth instinctively as the predator snarled a warning. Beyond the creature, lying at the base of a tree, was a body.
Something inside Jerrid tightened and grew hot.
The myrk hound circled slowly to face him full on, its teeth bared and gleaming white. Jerrid growled back at it, but the hound ignored him, padding toward them on huge paws.
It wasn’t going to stop. And the only thing that stood between Ava and certain death was his own feeble human form.
He shouted Dragon’s name desperately into his mind.
The myrk hound launched forward with a guttural bark. Jerrid dove toward him to close the distance faster. His hand lashed out, and claws pushed against his fingernails. He let them come, focusing on the claws—only the claws. Dragon needed to stay where he was.
But Jerrid needed him.
As the hound leaped from the ground, Jerrid ducked and lashed out with his right hand, claws raking through fur and flesh. The beast howled in pain, knocked off course by the blow. It skidded through the damp leaves coating the forest floor and came round to face Jerrid again.
This time, it eyed Jerrid with new wariness. Only a couple of yards separated them. He stood so close to the myrk hound, he saw the drool dangling from its dark lips, the fury in its dark-brown eyes. Jerrid bared his teeth again.
“Mine,” he snarled.
The hound snapped at him, the spiny fur on its shoulders bristling. It took a step forward, planting a heavy paw on the ground with deliberate force.
It was a challenge.
“Mine!” Jerrid shouted and flung himself forward.
The hound growled and raced to meet him. They collided, fur and bone, and rolled across the forest floor. Jerrid came out on top, lashing out with his clawed hand. He tore into the hound’s exposed side and ripped through flesh.
Blood spurted across his hand, but he didn’t flinch away. He couldn’t.
Mine, Dragon repeated in a hoarse whisper. Ours. Mine…
In that moment, Jerrid realized it didn’t matter. For once, he and Dragon were in complete agreement.
Ava belonged to them.
And this hound wouldn’t lay one tooth on her. He wouldn’t even lay a glance on her, not if they could help it.
The hound snapped at Jerrid’s hand, its massive teeth sliding over the scales protecting the back of his knuckles.
Jerrid punched it hard in the jaw. The hound roared, kicking with its powerful hind legs and hurling Jerrid to the side.
He tumbled, rolled, and came up in a crouch, sliding through the leaves.
To his right, Ava and Brynja lifted a motionless form between them.
Good. That was good.
Get away!
Yes, get away. They needed to get away.
The hound lunged again, and Jerrid swung his other fist. But this time, the hound predicted his movement and ducked out of his reach at the last second. He slid past Jerrid, angling toward the helpless girls.
Brynja shouted at the hound.