The majestic bird of prey had, as usual, done more than her share. At Ava’s request, she’d leapt out of her skin and saved the day, grabbing the arrow aimed at the heart of the feline she’d observed from a distance for longer than she cared to admit. Then, after another arrow grazed her wing, she’d carried on flying, bravely, and not only long enough to get them away from the battle. She’d stayed in charge of their body, knowing how little Ava could tolerate pain.

Poor eagle. A powerful, deadly beast, stuck with a wimp of a human.

You did well, birdie. Let me take over now.

She knew she had to put her big girl panties on; she was still bleeding, for one, and despite all her skills, her eagle couldn’t tie a bandage. Secondly, she needed to take over, because if she didn’t grow a spine, her eagle would start resenting her, some day. She might even stop listening to her at all- which was how shifters became feral.

The bird flew further into the woods, where they’d left her clothes and her car before setting out to meet the Wyvern Pride that morning.

Every day, Ava woke up, took a shower, brushed her teeth, and told herself in the mirror, “I’m going to go speak to the Wyvern Alphas today.” And, every day, after lurking at the edge of their land, staying far away from their patrollers, she came home without so much as exchanging a word with a Wyvern.

Well, almost every day. A couple of weeks back, she’d come across a large, powerful, and ruthless tigress from their pride. Yeah, that had helped with the jitters. Strangely, she’d gotten away without losing any limbs.

And today…

She’d felt the change in the air as soon as she left her hotel room, and every single piece of her had been tempted to run. But she hadn’t. Thinking of all the children they had playing around the pride house, thinking about the felines she’d observed from a distance for weeks, and, above all, thinking about that stern, stoic white tiger she hadn’t failed to notice, she’d let her braver self take over, and flown at high speed around the entire territory to see what they faced. It wasn’t often that Ava Flavia Dale could be proud of herself.

Shifting back, Ava cried out in pain, her hands pressing her side. The wound wasn’t huge, so it shouldn’t have felt like someone had plunged a white-hot knife inside her. Even she wasn’t that much of a wimp. Swallowing her bile, she peeked at the wound, long enough to see some disgusting green discharge coming out. She sniffed and cursed out loud. Shit. Poison.

What was she supposed to do now?

Ava was particularly unprepared for the shitty cards life had dealt her these last six months. She’d been pampered. As the fourth child, the child no one really needed, her place in her flock had been embarrassingly privileged. She had the benefit of being treated and respected as a Dale, yet no responsibility fell on her shoulders. So, she’d spent her time helping her siblings - her elder brother, in particular. Richard had started to take over for their parents, but he was so severe, the rest of the flock practically trembled when he entered a room. Having her by his side had mitigated their reaction. She was the soft Dale. The one people smiled at and offered cookies to.

And then, six months ago, her entire world had collapsed.

She’d been on the run the entire time since; twice, those who wished to kill her had come close. The old family friend she’d run to now laid in a shallow grave because he’d helped her.

She wasn’t the fourth child anymore. She was more than likely the only Dale left alive, and not for long, unless she got that wound looked at.

Painfully, Ava managed to pull her jeans up her legs. Dismissing her bra, she grabbed her t-shirt, but lifting her arms was excruciating, so she just pulled her leather jacket on.

She wasn’t far from her inn. She could make it.

And then what? Unless the owner was miraculously well-versed in the art of manufacturing antidotes, and willing to administer it to a shifter, she was still screwed. She couldn’t go to a hospital; regular human doctors hardly knew how to deal with shifters, and, anyway, they would ask questions. Origins, address, name. She couldn’t afford that sort of trail.

She had access to a fairly large pile of cash, though. Thank fuck for nameless, untraceable Swiss bank accounts, held by bankers who still remained faithful to her family. She could hire a witch.

Where would she find one, though?

One name came to mind. The name had been the answer to every question she’d asked herself for months, but each time she’d thought of it, she’d trembled.

In her travels, at the rare times she’d come across other shifters, they’d mentioned him. Everyone knew him, or knew of him, in any case. In this part of the world, he was known as a benevolent loner, someone people could turn to when they really needed help. She knew better.

If she wanted to live, she was going to have to seek out Knox, all the while knowing that there was a very real chance he would take one look at her and rip her throat out. Knox wasn’t benevolent. He certainly wasn’t a loner, either.

But he could end the madness that had ripped her family apart if he so wished. He could also probably put her in contact with someone who could heal her.

Again: if he so wished. He probably wouldn’t.

“We have to go our separate ways,” Richard had told her, ignoring how she frantically shook her head.

The blood of their parents still soaked her long skirt, but while their betraying butchers were occupied, she managed to get away. Then, she’d seen two of her siblings, Aria and Rupert, take a knife through the heart. The monsters who’d turned on them had also raped them both, first, while Ava hid in the secret corridors between the walls of her home, like the coward she was.

She crawled to safety when the murderers dispersed, and, finally, after putting every single skill in her arsenal to good use, she got out. Richard had found her as soon as she’d left Dale and stepped into Rome.

She couldn’t lose Richard after all that - she just couldn’t.

“If we’re together, we’ll be ten times easier to spot. They’ll go after me,” he’d told her, only managing to make her cry harder. “You’ll get a head start. Then, you can fly far, far away from here. Fly to another country if you can, I know your bird can do it.”

“Never,” she’d yelled.

“Three thousand years, Ava. That’s how far back our family goes. We’re the first of our kind - the first eagles. Do you know what may happen to every eagle on earth if none of us live?”

She did know.

“America. You fly to America, you hear me? They say the First Wolf is in America, somewhere. You need to get to him and ask him to step in.”

Her eyes bulged in her face.

“He can end this, you know he can.”

“But he’s a monster.”

The original monster her grandmother told her tales about, the boogieman that would come and eat her if she was naughty. She wasn’t a kid anymore, but she recalled the tales.

“Those are just stories, Sister. And if they aren’t, it doesn’t change anything. I’ll be on the run for months, or years. They have everything they need to track me. You? There isn’t even a picture of you online, and I burned your room before leaving. You’re safe. Find him, and get him to help, or every single one of us dies.”

If he’d just told her to save her skin, she would never have left his side, but he had known better. He’d given her a mission she couldn’t refuse. So she hugged him hard, and shifted, before running for her life, remembering a lesson she’d been taught before she could write. Her blood didn’t belong to her.

She had to find the First Wolf. In New York, she learned that Fenrir went by Knox, nowadays. In Boston, she was told he sometimes came out of his den for his friends. In New Orleans, there were whispers of him lending his hand to a pride of felines a few months back. So, slowly, she’d crept closer and closer to her goal.

Six months, she’d survived. She’d live another day, she swore, dragging her feet all the way to her room. She collapsed on her bed and succumbed to the darkness.