Page 22

“Wait!”

A voice.

Human.

Don’t listen to that voice. Run.

Pain. Every movement is pain. Blood drips to the ground, leaving a trail. No time to hide. They’re too close. Those skin-changers with their sharp teeth. Those humans with their weapons. Too close.

Shifters. I know them. Do I know them?

The voice is there, it’s always there, but it’s quieter than it used to be. Tired. Defeated.

Branches catch on a tattered wing and bring more pain. It’s a struggle to be quiet, but necessary. The hunters are still too close.

There’s only one direction to go, and that’s away from them. Far away. But even far away, there isn’t safety. Has there ever been?

Can’t go to town .

The voice is right, but close could be safe. More blood falls from open wounds, gaping holes in two legs and a wing, the other wing broken, dragging across the ground. If the hunters give chase, there will be no escape.

Have to hide.

Lights and noise of humans. It’s close, but not too close. This way may be safe.

Slinking through the trees is easy. It’s always easy. There is no one to see, no one to hide from, no houses. Until suddenly, there is.

A small human house, soft lights on in the window, and the smell of animals permeating the ground. Underneath it, though, is something different. Something softer, unique, unlike anything else in the world.

We have to hide. Don’t stop here.

The voice is easy to subdue. This scent is more important than anything it has to say, anyway. Like spring rain, the open sky, like damp earth and growing things, it’s completely new but familiar, all at once.

The voice isn’t the other this time. As we slink into the trees, hiding, waiting, watching, needing to see what is casting the scent, the thought is mine, the first wholly free thought I’ve had since Before.

Mine.

To be continued…

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