Page 109 of A Song of Air
Beast of Prey
Bryson screamed andscrambled backwards.
The creature before her may have been blurry, but she could make out enough to feel the fear. It walked on near-silent toes, heaved with odorless breath. It was a massive creature crouched on all fours with a head that resembled the skull of an animal, though it was covered in thick patches of hair. It had ears and antlers that twisted high like the branches of a tree. Three glowing eyes peered at her, and thick, sharp teeth snapped in her direction.
Splotches of green, brown, and black surrounded it like it was made of moss or grass. Its body was thick, muscular, all angry slashing lines that prowled closer no matter how much she scrambled back.
It pounced and Bryson’s hands shot up. Her magic, once dormant, came alive at her command. The snarling creature yelped as the magic caught it in its deathly grip. Air shot it up into the sky and her fingers curled, letting it close around the beast with crushing force, twisting, reforming.
Her nose bled and she tasted the copper of it on her lips. Her vision hazed with the brutal force of her magic. This had never happened before, but she couldn’t relent. She refused to. With a cry, her fingers curling into her palms, the magic responded...
There was the sound of bone crunching, loud, echoing throughout the forest. A single yelp of pain and her magic released its hold on the beast. It toppled to the ground in front of her, landing with a hard, wet, squelch.
Dead.
Her chest heaved and Bryson coughed, blood staining her palm.
Using magic had never taxed her quite as much as it did then. The only explanation was the iron in her system. True fear gripped her. If she couldn’t use her magic, what then? Would she not be like the other Elementals, able to melt, freeze, drown when necessary?
Tears stung her eyes.
“Bryson!”
She felt strong hands grasp her arms before the haze cleared and she saw Weylyn. His eyes were blown wide with worry. His hands cupped her cheeks, twisting her face back and forth as though inspecting her for injuries.
“Bryson...” His voice softened. “Are you alright?”
Her heart was pounding up to her throat, her body ached, her eyes burned, and blood coated the inside of her mouth. She didn’t know how to answer that question.
“I’m fine,” she croaked.
“Forgive me.” He dropped his forehead to hers. The words were a scrape of a voice, like he wasn’t accustomed to apologizing often. “I did not sense it near.” He pulled away then, a new sense of urgency charging the air as he looked down at the broken creature she’d killed.
Her stomach twisted.
Weylyn let out a curse and whipped back around to her. “We have to go,” he hissed. “Now.”
“Weylyn, what—” His hand clamped down along her wrist, and the next thing she knew, he was dragging her, their fire and meal all but forgotten as they ran.
“There’s no time,” Weylyn heaved, tugging her along.
She nearly tripped. “No time for what?”
“There are more of those things coming for us. A pack. We cannot let them find us. We cannot!”
A haunted howl pierced the air around them. It echoed, over and over again in a way that sounded like a haunted song drifting through the air. Over and over and over again, making Bryson realize that it wasn’t an echo at all. There were several creatures. And soon those howls made way to growls and snarls and an electrifying magic charged through the air.
