Page 93 of Dream Weaver

“Trust me, dammit!” she whispered — or yelled — next.

I wanted to, but I’d seen Abby mad, and mad made her impulsive. Explosive. Dangerous to everyone in a hundred-yard radius.

Then again, explosive and dangerous might come in handy right now. I sure as hell wasn’t accomplishing much. A bear could vanquish almost any foe, but witchcraft was kind of a stretch.

So, I did my best to shelter Abby as she struggled up to her hands and knees, leaning into the wind — and me. She didn’thave much body mass to lean with, though. My mother would definitely not approve. If we survived this, I vowed to take Abby home to Wyoming, introduce her to my entire family, and let my mother stuff her with home cooking to put some meat on those bones.

But right now…

Through the howling wind and dust, something colorful whipped around. My shirt, I realized. Well, Peter’s. Abby had wrapped it around her arm like a talisman.

Gripping fistfuls of fur, she worked her way up my body, stopping when the wind blasted, then fighting onward. When she reached her knees, she sucked in a deep breath and stabbed one hand into the storm.

The wind screamed, knocking into her. Abby wavered slightly, then reached higher. Higher…

Heaving to her feet, she stood and thrust a hand out against the storm. The other hand clutched my fur, and the shirt wrapped around it whipped in the wind.

Stop,her gesture said.I order you to stop.

It didn’t, but sand stopped stinging my eyes, and the heavy curtain of dust that had enveloped us thinned.

I turned my head, watching her battle the wind. Her hair streamed out behind her, but a pocket of air cleared in front of her face. She rotated her hand, slicing the wind like a knife.

The storm raged on, but it split around the blade of her hand, letting the air pocket around us expand. My body was Abby’s trench, and her arm was a rifle protruding into the battlefield. The shirt wrapped around her wrist flapped so hard, I thought it would shred.

The air crackled with magic. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. Whoever was on the other end of that storm was really, really mad.

But so was Abby, and she was stubborn as hell. Gritting her teeth, she hung on.

The storm raged all around us, but a bubble of calm expanded, inches from our skin. Sand flew through the air, blurring my view of straining trees and whipping shrubs. Thin rays of sunlight burst through the clouds, blinding me briefly before clouds wiped them away.

Gradually, though, the sun won out, and thin slices of blue sky became wide swaths. The wind faded, letting sand and dust settle to the ground. The shirt wrapped around Abby’s arm stirred a while longer, then went limp.

Abby sagged over my body. Her heart pounded against my side.

I rolled slightly and looked up, quietly chuffing at her.

Releasing a fistful of fur, she patted my side. “I’m okay.”

I chuffed again, not satisfied.

“Really. I’m fine,” she whispered, creaking to her feet.

Sand rained from her clothes, and her hair was a mess. But she seemed fine — until she realized she was face-to-face with a grizzly. Me.

I kept perfectly still, like she was the butterfly in that mountain meadow, a long time ago.

Her throat rippled with a gulp, and she patted my side tentatively.

“Um… Good bear. Nice bear…” She backed away.

A mournful rumble sounded in my chest, and she froze. Then she inched closer and rested a hand on my side.

“Sorry. And thanks. And…er…wow.” She moved her fingers over my fur.

I nosed a little closer and wiggled my ears. They were much softer and nicer to pet. Would she get the hint?

She did, moving her hands to my head, then my ears.

---