Page 56 of Midnight Moon
I pulled back. While I knew Asher wasn’t invincible, I was still surprised a fall into a pit had knocked him out.
A quick sniff confirmed there was no blood. Careful to not step on him, I circled around to get a better look at his head when a searing bolt of pain shot up my left leg.
I screamed and reared back. I hit the dirt wall with a thump, sending chunks of earth into my hair and face.
Coughing, I batted the debris away then picked up my injured foot.
Angry, red welts puckered the sole of my foot. It looked like a burn. There was only one material I knew of that could leave such a mark on a shifter.
Careful not to make the same mistake twice, I tiptoed toward the area I’d just stepped, searching the ground for the offending material.
At first, nothing stood out. I didn’t have the advantage of light in the dark pit. The only way to find the material would, unfortunately, be by touching it again.
I swallowed the knot in my throat and braced myself for another jolt of searing pain. I leaned down and patted the ground. I touched rocks and sticks, waiting for the moment when I would touch one and realize it was, in fact, not a rock or stick.
My fingers brushed the corner of the net Asher laid on. Just as before, fiery pain jolted through my limb.
I reared back with a cry, clutching my injured palm to my chest.
What in the…
I leaned forward to look at the net. Sure enough, tendrils of silver wove through the fibers.
My stomach dropped to my feet, and I rocked back on my heels as the horrible truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
Whoever made this pit was, indeed, a hunter.
And their prey of choice?
Shifters.
Sixteen
I stoodat the bottom of that cursed pit, too shocked to move.
All forms of silver were forbidden within shifter territory. The precious metal was anything but precious to us. It burned our flesh quickly and caused considerable pain—more so than any other substance could.
And that human tale of silver bullets killing werewolves? That was based on my kind’s aversion to the metal, and it was true. If silver penetrated a shifter’s body and remained there too long, the shifter would die. It would be a painful, horrific death.
Asher!
My shock gave way to concern for my teammate. I crouched down and leaned as close as I dared to assess his condition.
Asher’s body was sprawled on top of the net, but, again, I neither saw nor smelled any puncture wounds. The silver hadn’t come in contact with his bloodstream, but his back was bound to be covered in angry sores.
He had to be in absolute agony.
No wonder he lost consciousness.
I needed to get Asher off the net. Mother Moon only knew what damage prolonged exposure to silver was doing to his body.
The only problem: how would I get him out of here?
I was strong, but I couldn’t lift the heavier shifter out of the pit.
But I could, at least, get him off the net.
I pulled my shirt over my head and tapped into my shifter strength to tear it in half. I wrapped the fabric over my palms. Moving Asher meant touching the painful metal again, but I could try and prepare this time to mitigate the damage.
