STREAMING THROUGH THE sky in spirit form, Ochd flew across the highlands to the east. When the wind died, and everything below him turned black and white, he descended to the Wood Dream settlement.

White smoke wafted around him as he made his way through the blackened oaks and pines. The other body he had discarded no longer occupied the grove where he’d left it. He followed the scent of his form to the center of the ruins.

Outside her cottage Murdina stood beside an enormous fire, into which she cast garments. Ochd recognized the clothing as belonging to Oriana Embry, and then saw what more the mad druidess was burning: his other body.

“You neednae do this, sweeting mine,” Hendry said as he joined her, and tried to guide her away from the blaze. “They’ve gone.”

“That slut shallnae have my Hendry,” Murdina said, jerking away from him. “Nor my cottage, or my garments, or my cloak.” She frowned at him. “She stole my cloak, Dirkus. She took it with her when I sacrificed her to the Gods. You must fetch it back from her. Then we shall feed her to your pigs.”

She no longer recognized her lover, Ochd thought. Whatever Murdina had done to the young druidess, it had taken from her the last of her sanity.

Aon came at Hendry’s beckoning, and watched the druidess muttering to herself as she cast more garments into the flames.

“Watch over her,” the druid said before he retreated.

Without a form to embody, Ochd’s choices became limited to inhabiting one of the dead trees, or remaining disembodied. He drifted into the clearing, and saw the totems standing ready. He chose the biggest, and descended to merge his spirit into the gigantic form.

The embodiment came with a sharp sense of bitterness. All of the refinements Hendry had given him had been lost now with the destruction of both bodies. He could see through the totem’s eyes, and had a rudimentary mouth through which to speak. Sound came to him through the wood of his form in vibrations. He could no longer indulge in smell or touch, senses he had come to appreciate.

The form felt strange and yet familiar, like a half-forgotten memory. He’d once been a totem, centuries past, in the days when the tribe yet flourished. He recalled standing and watching the druids’ young ones playing together in this place. Most of the other defenders had retreated into the long rest of their kind, making them indifferent to the tribe’s daily life. As one of the watchers Ochd had remained alert, and dreamed of what it would be like to have his own child.

Rowan had taken that hope from him.

He let his spirit spread throughout the totem, gaining full control of its limbs. It felt huge and clumsy compared to his refined forms, but he would adjust to it. Once he completely embodied it he would use it to go to Hendry and reveal the attack the Skaraven had planned. With the other totems he would smash the highlanders, and one in particular would have his attention. But as he envisioned it, he went still.

Hendry would kill Rowan and the other druidesses.

Rowan.

Though she had denied him his dream, he knew with certainty that he could not see her die. Even through his anger, the thought of losing her filled him with misery. She had lied to him, and given herself to the Skaraven, but he could not go on without her. If Hendry ended her, somehow Ochd knew it would finish him too—and he wanted to live.

Surely Rowan would feel the same, even if her dreams were taken from her too.

The Skaraven would soon arrive. Ochd would wait until they did, kill Taran himself, and take Rowan to safety. He’d protect her until the others prevailed over the clan. Then she’d have no choice but to become his mate.

Hendry need never know of her betrayal.