Page 32 of Great Falls Cadet
Lera’s tantalizing face came close to him, her brown eyes hard and shockingly luminescent against her pale skin, her gray uniform plastered to every inch of her body. Her words struck his chest like rocks.“I’m not an Academy student as of this moment, so get your damn hands off me. Now.”
The instant he did so, Lera turned and ran, the fat drops of rain splattering against her footprints. And now she was gone, the storm drowning out any sound, any trace of her.
Coal’s chest tightened. Twisting around, he buried his fist into a tree with enough force to make his knuckles sing. And then he did it again. And again, until the droplets of rain washing down the bark ran laced with red. As if the tree itself was bleeding.
The dark afternoon sky flashed with lightning, followed by the thunder’s roll.The sharp flash of deadly light grounded into a tree far below, the cracking, smoking trunk setting each of Coal’s senses to alert.
“Leralynn!’ Coal’s voice rose in a bellow that the forest swallowed like a bit of debris. “Lera!”
No answer.
Coal swore. The weather was turning foul faster than he’d expected, and from the wind and smell, it would worsen still. A full-on storm, with Leralynn alone in the thick of it. Rain struck Coal’s face with a vengeance, the droplets morphing from sharp needles to thick globs.
Turning, Coal took quick bearings of the forest and sprinted in the direction Lera had disappeared, his ears straining but hearing nothing except the rushing stream and rain drenching the leaves. “Lera!” he shouted again and again, the words echoing mockingly and receiving no answer. No Lera. And with the growing storm, no footprints either.
Coal’s heart stuttered, then tripped into a gallop, a fear-filled heat spreading through his blood. Where the bloody hell could Lera have gone? He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t smell her. Couldn’t hear her. The girlcouldn’thave gone far, not exhausted as she was. Ten steps, perhaps. Twenty considering her stubbornness. Any other cadet would be huddled beneath the first kind-looking bush, sobbing and rocking herself.
Lera was most certainly not any other cadet. She was a warrior in her own right, too stubborn and proud to step away. To ask for help. To show weakness. Coal should never have left her, no matter what she’d demanded. No matter whether she was under the Academy’s control or not, whether he had the right to bodily drag her off or not.
Coal had gone too far. When he’d realized Lera was playing him, the punishment had stopped being about River’s orders and become personal. Because Coal had been stupid enough to trust the girl. Because Lera had looked so much like the woman who’d brushed his soul and left. Because Coal was an irresponsible bastard who’d never deserved River’s confidence.
Coal’s only job now was to get the girl back to the Academy alive. And if she complained, River could whip him for kidnapping for all he cared.
“Leralynn!” Coal twisted around, surveying the drenched woods again and again and again, searching amidst the shades of gray, between the gleaming green leaves. Water smashed his mouth each time he opened it to call her name.
No answer but the pounding rain. No smell but that of wet earth and the tang of lightning.
Coal’s muscles tightened, the frustration and fury pressing so hard against his lungs and chest that it was a miracle the bones didn’t crack. A growl that sounded anything but human escaped his chest as he sank his knuckles into another tree, the exploding pain in his fist a momentary relief from the roaring inside his blood.
Coal twisted about, unable to stop, to think.
Where would the girl have gone? Where, where, where? Coal’s heart pounded in rhythm to the rain. He raced along the stream searching for any clues as to Lera’s course. She’d have surely run—though stars knew how shecouldrun—as far away from where Coal stood as possible. But that still left too much ground. Upstream or down? Toward the Academy or away? The overlook that had drawn her attention, perhaps, or—Coal’s foot slipped on wet earth, his breath catching as he reclaimed his balance and looked down.
The slope down was wet and steep enough to have almost taken him along. If Lera had been here… Now that he looked closer, Coal marked a distinct trail cutting down the slope. Not the narrow streaks of sliding feet, but a wide swath of disturbed mud that a body sliding down would leave. Five paces lower, a tree held a scrap of gray cloth, stuck on a sharp, broken-off branch.
Coal had let Lera leave, and she’d fallen.
Thunder cracked as if in mockery.Yes,the skies said.It wasyou. You. You.
10
Lera
It’s sometime later—minutes, perhaps, or maybe days—when a set of sharp teeth closing around my upper arm draws my face from my knees. The rain has slowed from a torrential storm to a heavy downpour, though my sluggish mind can’t work out whether this fact is of any importance. I’m almost surprised to see that I’m still here, huddled against the base of a tree, branches whipping overhead. Surprised to note that none of them have cracked my skull.
The teeth release and bite again, this time harder.
Turning my head, I find a drenched gray wolf with a black muzzle and intense yellow eyes. My throat closes, my hand reaching out with desperation even as I fear I’m stretching toward a mirage. Wet, warm fur closes the distance to me, a large lupine tongue lapping the dirt and rain and tears off my face.
Wrapping my arms around Shade’s wolf, I bury my face in the animal’s neck, breathing the earthy scent of him. “I knew it was you last night,” I say finally into the wolf’s fur. “Can you shift?”Can you shift now?
Yellow eyes blink with recognition but little comprehension. Taking my hand between his teeth, the wolf pulls me toward a massive cluster of tumbled boulders. When I don’t budge, the wolf growls his annoyance and lets go of my arm. His narrowed gaze leaves me with no doubt that he is preparing to resink his teeth into me and is hesitating only while deciding on his choice of target.
“Wait!” I find my limbs with difficulty, my gaze never leaving Shade for fear he too will disappear. “One blink for yes, two for no. Can you shift at will?”
The wolf growls. Snaps his teeth impatiently.
“Can you understand my speech?” My chest is tight. “One blink or—” The wolf turns his head, his eyes following an errant squirrel. I curse under my breath. What exactly Shade’s wolf understands has been a subject of speculation even in Lunos and now seems even less promising. By the time the wolf’s attention returns to me, the animal is shifting impatiently on his paws, his glistening teeth on snapping display.
