Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Yes, they’re not good. Let’s find her,” I say.
As we prepare to hunt our missing mate down, I wonder if this is a game that is all part of the ritual, or if she is running in fear, if the prospect of being mated is too terrible for her to face, if she is choosing death at the vile hands of twisted rotting things rather than be touched by us.
“We really need to find her,” Skor says, stating the obvious in a way that does not clarify matters at all. He seems more concerned than either Thorn or I. He likes her, clearly. He may even be feeling some kind of natural attraction in the form of the mate bond. I may also be feeling something I do not want to feel. No time to talk about it now.
We move out in human form, then when we have put enough distance between ourselves and the feast, we strip, hide our weapons, and slide into our wolf selves.
The moment I feel my fur, the world shifts. I no longer see mountains as a series of rocks, one bigger than the other. I scent the wind, find it full of creatures and darkness and the unmistakable scent of dead things.
There is something else, too. Something sweet. Something I caught in a much muted form when we were human, and now experience in a much fuller way. Our mate smells like something wicked, wild wind and sweet berries. There is a purity to her that I instinctively want to protect.
She has been caught up in this ritual, something she did not choose, something she cannot possibly know if she actually wants. A pang of guilt makes its way through to my wolf heart.
The mate bond is a cruel thing.
Normally it is felt between compatible partners, but out here, in these lands, with this pack, it is something that will often be forced through intercourse. I hope she feels the bond when she is taken for the first time. I think Thorn is smitten. He would be the best choice. He is the youngest of us, and the kindest of us.
We head in the direction our mate has taken, moving over ridges and through gullies with eager paws. Her scent grows stronger as we move, but the day is also fading and the sun is descending faster than we can run. We chase our mate through the twilight and into the dark, fanning out to cover more area.
As a deep chill starts to settle over the land, Skor lets out an excited yelp in the mid-distance.
He has spotted her. We turn toward him. I see her instantly, a flash of red hair on a moonlit horizon that looks as foreign and strange as another planet.
She has a staff of some kind, or walking stick, in hand, and she appears to be using it to ascend part of the mountain.
But she is not alone.
Another figure is moving toward her.
Vampire.
I know it instantly because the wind carries the scent of congealed blood to me. There is something very strange and stomach turning about the scent of the undead. It’s blood that is perpetually on the turn, a sort of stench that cannot be ignored. Truly dead things become like earth over time, but these creatures will never smell like soil. They impede the natural cycle of things, turning life essence into a void of ravenous existence.
Our mate is being hunted. She doesn’t seem to notice it. She keeps moving up the hill with a painstakingly slow gait that allows the thing to draw closer. In its stalking mode, it is relatively sedate, but once it comes within range, it rushes toward her in a sudden flurry of movement.
We are not close enough to stop him, but we are close enough to see what is going to happen. At full sprint, we are going to watch our mate die before our eyes.
She turns at the very last moment and faces the thing that wishes to undo her. The vampire screeches with a kind of stupid bloodlust no real predator would ever allow to overcome it. True predators strike in silence.
She hasn’t even shifted. That would give her some chance of holding the thing off, even through the merit of a thicker hide. She’s holding the staff in her hand, as if a bit of stick is going to save her from a vampire. I am certain I am about to watch her die. I run as fast as I can go, closing the distance with desperation. We are only a couple dozen feet away, but it is still not close enough.
She lifts the stave high and brings it down on the ground.
We shouldn’t be able to hear a noise from it, but there is a loud boom that shakes the earth itself. We stumble over our feet as the sky turns green, and a bolt of searing light emerges from the clouds in a bright beam that turns the vampire to dust almost instantly.