Prologue #2
“I see,” he muttered. He did not glare at Astrexa as he normally would, nor did he warn her away.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realized that he wasn’t going to protect me—not today.
His long, drawn-out sigh sounded frustrated, but when he lowered himself onto his thick, muscular tail, his expression was gentle.
“Give me the Ayala. What were you going to do with it, Sazzie? You know you can’t keep it. ”
Drawing myself up taller, I tilted my chin and jutted my horn, indignant that he’d even think I’d be that stupid.
“I know that!” I snapped at him, feeling safe to do so because I knew Zathar would never hurt me.
“I was going to take it to the Shaman, to his apprentice Artek, so they could heal it!” I did not dare let go of the shaking, poor little creature, but I dipped slightly so Zathar could better see the broken leg.
A bit of string was stuck around the paw, evidence of a snare it had been caught in, but it had managed to chew its way out.
It was hurt because of one of our hunters.
It could have even been hurt by one of Zathar’s snares.
His mouth twitched, and I wasn’t quite sure if it was because he was hiding a smile or a frown.
No, there was a twinkle in his eyes, and I offered a more hopeful smile.
Was he going to help me after all? “Do you know how far it is to the Shaman’s den, little one?
” he asked me. I rolled a shoulder in response, and his mouth twitched again.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said to him, stubbornly clutching the Ayala against my cut-covered chest. “She needs help, so I’m getting it.
” When that made the three Naga girls snicker from their safe little distance, I shot them a belligerent glare.
They didn’t care; they were mean, angry predators to anything smaller than them, and that included me.
If I were stronger, I’d teach them a lesson, but they were so much bigger than me.
“I see,” Zathar said, and, with his fourteen summers under his belt, he made that sound so wise.
“Give the Ayala to me. My hunting will take me close.” I glanced from his reaching hand to the small Ayala in my arms and felt the overwhelming desire to keep holding on, to refuse that kind offer.
But his question made me fear that the Shaman’s den was too far away, and it would be scary alone at night.
“Okay,” I said, and I shifted the Ayala in my grip so I could hand it over to him.
It struggled, refusing to go quietly. Little snarls and hisses, which sounded cute coming from such a tiny, furry creature.
Zathar gripped it by the scruff of its neck, which turned out to be a much more practical method of holding a struggling Ayala.
Then he opened a pouch at his side and dropped the little beast into it.
I winced, certain that the indignant squeal meant it had hurt its injured paw when he did that.
But, in the pouch, it was dark and quiet, and it calmed almost immediately.
“Good luck, Sazzie,” Zathar told me, and then he lowered himself enough to clasp my shoulder with his hand.
“It is now or never, do you understand? Fight them, fight them with the fire you feel here.” He tapped my chest with a claw, just above the burning, aching cuts and puncture wounds.
At first, I thought he meant those aches, but then I understood.
He was talking about the fire I felt when I wanted to protect the Ayala.
I still felt it in my veins, and it had ignited more strongly when the girls laughed.
“You want to survive in this life? You want to be safe?” Zathar asked me.
I nodded fervently—of course I did! That’s why I preferred his company over that of my sisters, and that’s why I escaped into the woods any chance I got.
It wasn’t safe anywhere. “Then you must fight,” he said gently, his tone sad.
“I can’t protect you forever. You must learn to protect yourself.
” He raised that claw from my chest to point it at Astrexa.
“Challenge her. Show her no fear. I know you’re scared; I get it.
But you can’t let them know. You can’t let anyone else know. Understand?”
My eyes burned and ached, but I did not let any more tears spill.
Swallowing those feelings was harder than it had been to hold the clawing, angry Ayala, but I did it.
I understood everything he said; it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before.
If I did not protect myself, no one would. I had only one choice right now.
Balling my fists, I gave him a single nod.
Instead of staring after him when he turned toward the Shaman’s mountain and left, I focused my eyes on Astrexa and mustered the best glare I could.
Inside, I felt like that small, injured Ayala—terrified.
But Zathar was right: nobody could know that was how I felt.
With a shout of rage—fueled, as my brother had told me, by the fire I’d felt when I wanted to protect the Ayala—I attacked Astrexa.