She pulled herself into the branches, and went still.
A young woman with dark hair appeared. She looked like she was a teenager. She stepped out of the trees, crouched and sniffed.
“Aamir? We can’t go much farther from Accalia or we’ll reach the edge of the safe zone. You know the emperor’s issued a warning. No one should be out here alone or outside of the safe zone.”
A dash of movement, and a large, wolf-like creature leaped out of the bush in front of the woman.
Poppy froze. Oh, God. It was huge. The woman would be ripped to shreds.
The wolf was huge, sleek, and more streamlined than the ones she’d seen on Earth. It also had faint strands of glowing blue color through its brown fur, and a longer tail.
It leaped and took the girl to the ground.
Poppy let out a sub-vocal snarl and was about to dive from the branch when she heard the young woman laughing.
Poppy stilled.
The pair wrestled on the leaf litter. The woman stroked the wolf’s fur, and then the wolf burst, muscles and bones shifting.
It happened so fast.
A young, handsome, dark-haired man appeared where the wolf had been. The teenagers kissed, neither caring that the young man was naked.
The man nuzzled his girlfriend’s neck. “We’d better get back.”
“I smelled a foreign scent in the trees. It was Damari, but not.”
“What?” The man tugged the young woman’s ponytail. “That makes no sense. Come on, shift. I’ll race you back.”
Poppy blinked.
They were werewolves.
Shapeshifters. She rubbed her throbbing head. She was either dreaming, or she’d really lost it.
The woman smiled. “I’ll beat you.”
“No, you—” The young man’s head whipped up.
The woman tensed as well and they both rose.
“I smell something…wrong,” the young man said.
Poppy did too. It smelled like harsh chemicals, with an undertone of rot.
The bushes rustled and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Something was hunting the teenage couple.
“Go,” the young man said.
“Aamir…” Fear coated the woman’s voice.
“Now.”
The woman transformed, her body twisting, melting, and contorting. Seconds later, a sleek gray wolf stood there, with aqua-blue light glinting through its fur. With one final look at the man, the wolf dashed away.
The young man formed claws, long and wicked, and let out a growl. Then he charged into the undergrowth.
Poppy heard the sounds of fighting. The thud of bodies colliding, then she heard the man grunt in pain. She yanked out the scalpel from her pocket and clutched it, her heart hammering. Her head still throbbed, but she had to stay focused.
She had to help the young man.
Suddenly, he burst out of the trees. He looked okay, but dazed. He staggered, like he was drunk, and slammed into the trunk of a tree. She saw a trickle of blood down the side of his face.
A low, feral snarl came from the bushes.
Poppy sucked in a breath. The man didn’t seem to hear it. He was too stunned.
She leaped out of the tree, landing between the bushes and the man. He looked at her, his mouth dropping open.
“Go!” she yelled. “Get out of here.”
His brow creased.
Another snarl, and in the thick vegetation, Poppy saw two large green eyes blink on.
Everything in her turned to ice. What the hell?
She lifted her knife. “Go. Now.”
The young man changed. The brown wolf still looked a little unsteady, but it ran into the trees.
Pulse racing, Poppy faced the thing in the bush. The eyes glowed—hungry and mean. “I won’t let you hurt them.”
It hissed.
She couldn’t see exactly what it was, but she got the sense of bulk, a powerful body. Whatever the hell it was, she wasn’t going to let it hurt anyone.
It took a step forward and one large paw came into view. Wicked, curved claws tipped the end of it.
Oh, shit. Her hand trembled.
Then, in the distance, she heard voices.
“Something set off the perimeter sensors.”
“I have the scent,” another voice yelled. “This way.”
The creature in front of her drew back, then it swiveled. She heard the vegetation rustle as it bounded away.
Poppy stayed there, frozen, knife held up.
Moments later, she heard the voices again.
“This way! Something’s running for the perimeter.”
She sagged. The kids were safe. Another wave of dizziness hit her hard.
She fell, hitting the ground hard. Pain shot through her body, and she moaned, tears welling in her eyes.
Trying to push back to her feet proved to be too difficult. She collapsed, panting.
She wanted her man—her big, gruff, strong, mystery man—to hold her. To make her feel safe.
She considered just curling into a ball. He was just a dream. She was alone.
Somehow, Poppy summoned the strength to push herself up. No one had ever made her feel safe. She had to depend on herself.
She was smart. She knew the best way to find a solution was to gather information. She was good at learning. She had no idea which direction to go, but she stumbled in the direction the young wolves had gone. She tripped a little, trying to keep moving.
But she had no energy left. Only pain.
She dropped to her hands and knees with a sob, then she crawled under the cover of a bush, and curled up.
Brodin stomped into his home, frustrated and angry.
Annora and Tolf were a step behind him.
He’d scoured the forest for any signs of Fillian.
Nothing.
Not a single sign or scent of the young hunter.
Brodin yanked his giant battle axe off his back and tossed it on the wooden table in his large living area with a loud clunk.
Anger boiled in his gut, hot and churning. With a growl, he snatched up a book he’d been reading and threw it at the stone fireplace. It hit with an unsatisfying thud. Spying a small music player, he grabbed that next, and threw it.
The metal exploded on the stone, the innards of the device clattering to the wood floor.
His people were used to his outbursts. Damari as an entire species could be volatile. The wildness inside could be hard to control when emotions were high.
“Did that make you feel better?” Annora asked.
“A little.” He wanted to track down his father and strangle him. Zavir was rotten to the core.
Brodin drew in a breath. Right now, Candela needed to be his focus. He would find his father’s warlord, and rip her to shreds.
Brodin turned.
Annora spread her hands. “We tracked the scent trail as far as we could…”
“It just stopped.” Tolf’s voice was rife with frustration.
Brodin had tracked the youngling himself. He and Tolf had the strongest sense of smell among all of the cleavers.
The scent trail had just stopped. Like the young hunter had been plucked into the sky.
“Candela is Zhylaw,” Brodin said. “She has a reputation for developing poisons. They say that even her hair is tipped with poison. I suspect she’s created something to block scent, and prevent us tracking her.”
Tolf growled. “If we don’t find Fillian, and the other missing hunters, soon…”
Then they’d be dead.