Page 14 of The Wolf and the Witch

“Don’t touch him,” she yelled, worried he’d die, leaving her stranded in the middle of Redwoods with more Lycans nearby hunting her. Geralt either didn’t hear her or ignored her warning because he didn’t stop his charge. Her heart raced, and she brought trembling hands up to throw another potion.

Something slammed into her, crushing her beneath its weight. Jaws snapped near her throat and she screamed, yanking on her magick harder than she ever had and throwing everything into the beast on top of her. A deafening roar sounded from her right, cut off only when the Lycan on top of her burst apart, coating her in blood and fur. Her throat, eyes and nose burned. Fatigue chased her limbs and block dots floated in her vision.

Don’t die on me, witch, Geralt snapped in her head. It was the last thing she heard before darkness rushed up and claimed her.

Hellscape

Blood coated Greta in stringy clumps interrupted by strips of black fur. A whine escaped Ryker as they approached their mate. Claws dug into their chest, fear gouging deeper than any knife. Forcing themself to pick up Greta’s limp frame, they glanced around the empty woods. Their ears failed picking up sounds of additional wolves and they failed protecting mate, too preoccupied with one threat. They knew better. There was a reason wolves hunted in packs, diverting prey attention or tiring them out before delivering a killing blow.

The brown Lycan laid on the forest floor, a desiccate lump, rot spreading from the carcass. Give me control, Geralt commanded Ryker. Ryker retreated, trusting Geralt to protect mate.

Geralt’s chest ached. Fear, anger, and shame took turns twisting a knife. He gave the surrounding mess one last look before resuming the path out of Redwoods. Greta bounced wordlessly in his arms and he forced his eyes on the woods blurring by with every burst of speed in his long legs. Her heart thumped sluggishly, but he reassured himself and Ryker that she lived as long as her heart kept beating.

They burst out of Redwoods, tingles of awareness raising his fur. Unfamiliar scents drifted to him on the wind. He bit back a snarl, ears listening for the sound of water. His hearing directed him to walk east. Greta remained unconscious, but the water would dilute their scents, making it hard for them to track. He followed the creek’s path out of the woods.

He kept his claws cautiously tucked away from Greta’s skin, clutching her tighter to his chest. Making each step with the pads of his feet and keeping the heels off the ground in case he needed to run with his mate in his arms, Geralt’s head swiveled in every direction, following the path to the water. He grounded himself in Greta’s even breaths.

The sun sparkled off clear water less than a foot away. His eyes assessed the ground, ensuring broken branches and twigs didn’t give away their location when he stepped toward the stream. Tightness in his chest eased when he stood near the water’s edge. He gauged the stream critically. It spanned less than 12 feet, if he had to guess. Glancing down at Greta’s closed eyes, he made the decision. He didn’t know what lurked in the water, but it couldn’t inflict more damage than a fully grown Lycan.

As he walked into the stream, his fur instantly weighed down his movements after soaking up water. He hoped Greta would wake, since they stood within her element. Rocks scraped his feet, and he knew traces of blood mingled with water with every step, but he marched on. The sun beat down on them and the water came up to his sternum by the time he’d waded half the distance across the stream. Greta’s dark hair floated around them in a halo and her dress clung to her skin, outlining every curve and dip.

Geralt made sure Greta’s nose and mouth remained above water, keeping his eyes trained on their path forward. He couldn’t afford to linger glances at his mate’s body, allowing it to distract him. Ryker whined in their head again. Greta’s continued unconscious state worried man and beast. But he focused his energy on getting them across the stream. He’d worry about waking her up once they were out of the woods, not a moment before.

His muscles burned, but they reached the bank without incident. Scenting the air, he didn’t detect the telltale scent of other Lycans nearby. Eerie silence lurked on this side of the stream. He turned left, following the direction he perceived the flow of water originated. He knew he’d find trees thinning, a sign of a road being nearby. The longer he walked, the silence following him, the more his skin and fur itched. The Lycan form could deal the most damage, but evolutionarily designed for battle. Most battles didn’t wage for hours on end.

Panting, chest tight and muscles spasming, Geralt fell to his knees, Greta clutched to his chest, feeling his human skin shift, dragging the Lycan skin back beneath his bones. Tendons strained from the pressure of trapping a scream, not wanting to alert the lurking Lycans of their location. A million pinpricks of agony raced across his entire body. Being forced back into a human skin hurt like hell. Once it passed, he knelt in the grass, panting, sweat coating his skin, eyes slightly out of focus, as if Ryker retreated completely. The change was hell on them both. They rarely stayed in Lycan form for long periods of time, but they’d needed it to protect Greta.

Geralt climbed slowly to weak legs, putting one step in front of the other. He prayed to Selene that he wouldn’t have much further to walk for the pack mindlink to snap into place. If Gunter met them near the road, the male could drive them back to the hotel, or at the very least carry Greta so he could shift into his wolf skin. His body felt like shit and he wasn’t far from joining Greta in slumberland.

He walked on, limbs weakening further with each step, following the direction he was questioning as correct. Pausing for a break, he glanced around the trees closing in on them. He stiffened, suddenly wondering when he last heard a living thing aside from the heartbeats of him and Greta. He’d scented Lycans before crossing the stream.

Fear and apprehension rose in his throat and he chanced a look at the sun, trying to gauge its direction. Stories told of Redwoods laying south of the Lycan king’s palace. He thought for sure Redwoods was behind them, but unease slithered along his skin. If a witch as powerful as Greta feared the entity lurking in Redwoods, then Geralt needed to put more distance than humanly possible between them and it, because suddenly he wasn’t so sure they ever left Redwoods. The stream supposedly just separated one side of the forest from the other and they’d crossed it after exiting Redwoods.

Fuck all, the stream looked deceptively easy to cross but had taken hours, an illusion he realized too late. He didn’t know where they were anymore. The trees shifted every time he glanced at them. A sixth sense told him they were closing in on them. Clutching his mate tighter, Geralt forced his legs to move faster. As he continued to journey in a single direction, his conviction grew stronger that they were being followed. Being prey was an unfamiliar experience for him.

Risking discovery, Geralt turned behind him, releasing a deafening warning roar. The woods answered as one, whispers growing in volume. Shit, he thought. His body felt too weak for a shift and every step drained him, as if his strength leached into the grass and roots and trees of Redwoods. For all he knew, it did.

Ryker? he called to his beast, but the creature remained silent, his head emptied and scooped out. He ran for it, turning his back on the growing whispers, transitioning into growls. Something ravenous hunted them. When his foot landed with each stride, the grass tangled over his heels, hungry for more of his dwindling strength. In that moment, he knew genuine fear. His throat released weak growls, teeth lengthening agonizingly slow, his Lycan skin still out of reach.

Hope sprung when he saw a gap in the trees, proof they were thinning, approaching the edge of whatever hell he’d descended into. A scream of thwarted rage pierced his ears, and he stumbled, barely catching himself. Greta tumbled from his arms, and greedy vines wove around her. Her pale skin began turning a deathly white. He dropped to his hands and knees, howling up at the bright sky.

Selene, hear me. Help your son, he prayed to the mother of wolves, Goddess of moon and night. Newfound strength ruptured beneath his skin. Bones snapping interrupted the vicious snarls of a ravenous forest. Whatever Goddess forsake creatures lurked in those woods would not take a son of Selene. Buoyed by a primordial power as if his ancestors linked hands, funneling strength into him, he lunged at his mate, shredding the vines with claws ripping from his fingers.

He hefted his limp mate into his arms, sprinting for the gap in the trees. Fresh air slammed into his nostrils, as if he’d exited a bubble, bursting into the real world. The faint sound of cars driving by drifted to him. He wasn’t far from the main road. Thank the Goddess, he thought, borrowed strength slipping from him. As he strode forward, he didn’t look back, not wanting to tempt fate by looking death in the eyes.

Alpha? a familiar voice sounded in his head, faint, like a great distance separated them. Where the hell are you, Gunter? He sent back to the other male. He’d narrowly escaped hell, his unconscious mate cocooned in his arms. If he never saw Redwoods again, it would be too soon.

Near the underpass is where I am waiting. I was about to strip and shift to look for you. It’s been hours of me shouting down the mindlink, but still no response. I was beginning to think you were dead. Geralt sensed the undercurrent of concern in the older male’s tone. He breathed a sign of relief that he was still counted among the living. I’m coming to you, Geralt sent to Gunter. He looked down at Greta, lips lifting into a smile.

And I’ve got someone important with me.

?*

* Song of choice: Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

Part Three

“One day you will ask me which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.”

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