Chapter Five
Several interesting sessions later, and approximately three days after discovering Alyssa had no magical blood in her soul, she sat on a snow covered boulder overlooking the entire town and a huge section of the wastelands in front of her. The snow didn't fall today, but the world still held a stark chill, and the plains, hills, forests and Fractured Spine loomed before in a ghostly blanket. The mountains were a barrier of protection against the Shadows that came from a dark city, where people went and got swallowed up, leaving no trace of their life or death.
Somehow, the cold felt bearable. She wore bearskin robes, a scarf over her face, and drank in the strange, wild and relentless beauty of the land. The cold had a way of taking over the soul, infecting it with the same brittle hardness, blunting her to the effect of normal life. What did it matter, of frivolous things like clothes, fashion, witches and petty social bickering? No one cared in the Lunar Wastes. Here, it was a node of survival, of constant conflict with the Shadows, and the certain knowledge that your life was on borrowed time.
She ran a gloved hand over her sword, returned at last, reassured by the familiar weight. She had, of course, finally given it a name, clichéd as it might be – Shadowbane. She watched Kain in the near distance, walking and talking with a few council members on whatever it was they talked about. Kain, the person she would likely end up spending a great deal of her life with. Providing werewolf sons, perhaps witch daughters, unless she found a way back to the south, through the treachery of the Lunar Wastes. Perhaps to the inn with that sly witch. Thinking of the witch, she pulled out the bone tooth with the strange rune, and examined it.
She jumped in fright when an old, lightly clothed woman leaned on the boulder beside her.
“That's a powerful charm you have there, girl,” Garcia said, pointing at the pendant. “I wonder how you came by it.”
“A witch in an inn,” Alyssa responded, tucking the tooth away. “An inn drowning in enchantments. She is called Raine.”
Garcia made a thoughtful, sucking noise with her lips. “I wouldn't mind meeting this witch myself. We could do with more upon the Wastes. Other clans may have more witches, but ours only has me. I had hoped you might have something... but it was not to be.” She let out a scornful chuckle. “Just me with the magic, then! Old and fangless and good for nothing but one more spell.”
Before she let Alyssa have a word in edgewise, since she was kind of annoying and garrulous, Garcia nodded towards Kain. “He's a good soul. A fine man. I can already see that the two of you together will achieve great things. Because he is not the type to chain people in the darkness.”
Alyssa briefly admired Kain. Yes. She could do a lot worse with someone like him, with his handsome, almost ethereal features, his gentle touch upon her in the long night, his steady and loyal devotion, and his embarrassed apology that perhaps she might not like arrangements, but he would do right by her, and give her the best life possible.
A gilded cage, with the door ajar.
Dare she admit it to herself, she actually liked Kain. More than liked him. Something about him just fit. That monster who had fetched her from the snow in the howling cold, who had carried her like a princess to his birthplace, and tended to her as she recovered from the frost and revived in her new world.
“It's a lonely vigil, here,” Garcia said. “It needs people like you, with iron in their soul, and perhaps a certain recklessness to go so far from their home to find someone they love.”
Alyssa scanned the borders of the town, and froze when she saw something distorted and blotchy, oozing a way past the border enchantments. Garcia's ancient eyes flickered to it as well, and she muttered then, “Not the time. Not the place. Defend me, Alyssa. I must get to my cave.”
More Shadows forced their way past the barrier, and amorphous shapes coalesced from the frozen cobbles, mouths open in silent screams.
Alyssa positioned herself into fighting stance, alert as Garcia huffed and wheezed as she shambled to her cave. Kain sprinted beside her, even as the warning cries rent the atmosphere.
“Shadows! Shadows! Hide in your homes!”
“Attacks much more frequent. Many of them. Food wagons being destroyed...” Garcia continued muttering. “Something... intelligent guiding them...”
“Alyssa! Will you retreat or fight?” Kain padded beside her, eyes glowing, his expression alight in concern.
She gave him a withering stare. “I did not train for years just to hide behind locked doors. If you want me for a partner, you will have to accept that I might die.”
A nervous lump appeared in Kain's throat, and he nodded. “So be it.”
Alyssa grasped his hand, and kissed the strong knuckles. “Do not be afraid. And I'm holding to your promise that one day, I'll be able to search for my brother. Even if I don't have the magic.”
Kain hugged her tight, the warmth of his skin emanating through her robes, singing her blood in a pleasant way. Her eyes saw a small werewolf child following his mother indoors, and a strange wedge, like her heart getting stuck in her throat, made itself known.
Then, she tore herself away from Kain, and they positioned themselves on either side of Garcia, grinning as the Shadows began urging themselves through the stones.
She heard the growl and surge of feral grace, as Kain shapeshifted into his huge, shaggy wolf form, the werewolves, the dire wolves of the Lunar Wasteland. His form gave her comfort, rather than fear. She met his yellow eyes, his bared muzzle, and smiled. He barked in return, before advancing his huge, monstrous body, far more like a bear than a dog, towards the first of the Shadows.
Alyssa followed suit on her own target, blood singing, heart triumphant, resisting the urge to laugh in exhilaration.
Even without yet discovering her lost brother, she knew that this place was where she belonged.
Here, on the frontlines, fighting the Shadows, a powerful warrior by her side. Her sword hummed as it sliced the air, and lopped the head off the first of the Shadows. Without missing a step, she spun and thrust to another that had formed behind her, then rolled to assist Kain, surrounded by four of them.
This is my purpose. This is where I'm meant to be.
Watching the Shadows crumble and dissolve had to be one of the best things her vengeful mind experienced. Along with the knowledge that she was surrounded by shapeshifters, built to destroy, sworn to protect.
Just her kind of people. We have a lot to do, you and I, she thought, admiring Kain as he stood there, muzzle dripping with black bile. And as long as our purposes intersect, I'll be happy to remain at your side.
Maybe he caught something of her resolve, maybe he didn't. But he nudged at her hand, and she ran it along his coarse fur. He stood at shoulder height next to her.
Mine.
With a triumphant scream, she lunged at the next Shadow to form, her partner snapping at her side, as they guided the Snow Witch to her cave.
The End
Linther’s Rescue
Guardians of Lunar Wasteland
Chapter One
Raine narrowed her eyes at the door. Cursed Trader's late again. No trade at all meant bad business for Raine. She relied on the goods from the local farms shy of the border, and the wanderers prepared to go further and forage for her in return for bed and board. Sometimes the wolf people of the wastelands paid a visit, and they were prepared to trade food for coin, tooth and fur. Sometimes, they provided weapons. In fact, Raine wore a wolf fur fleece right now, fantastic for siphoning off emergency reserves of magic.
Ah, yes. Magic. Couldn't live with, couldn't live without. Unlocked for her years ago, with a long since vanished werewolf lover, who visited at her mother’s inn. Since her mother’s demise, Raine had worked hard since in turning the Blood Moon Inn into something of reputable claim. Staring around the beautifully polished surfaces, the well-preserved wood and stone décor, and the enchantment she'd spent many a year perfecting, she felt proud. Accomplished. Them Shadows as well, which always scurried at the edges of her arsenal of enchantments, they always sought to scratch away at her defenses, and she needed to refresh the perimeter barriers once a month
She watched her two customers who sat in a lonely corner, drinking through their mead, wrapped up and hooded from the chill that found a way inside, no matter how stoked the main hearth was. Raine supposed she needed to go chopping, soon, if no wood traders came her way. The wood container outside had enough left for two days’ worth of fuel, and Raine's magical speciality was imbuing things. Creating weapons against the Shadows, and distributing these objects to travelers and werewolves alike.
Not that she couldn't manage a fire lighting spell or two.
She folded her arms as she stepped outside for a moment, giving a furtive glance to the customers in her inn – blasting creepy, those fellows were, conversing in quiet whispers, never unveiling their faces.
She peered into the near distance, hopeful for a sign of life, of someone struggling up the snows towards her little, snug inn, a sanctuary between the Northlands and the Lunar Wastes. She needed the food. The only hunting she knew how to do was fishing – the fish retreated to shallow waters on cold days, and to shaded waters on hot days – but on the borders, all the rivers were near frozen, allowing only the extreme, resilient bastions of nature to thrive.
It was tough, sometimes, being a woman on the edge of a desolate wilderness. Her last two assistants had quit, hating the dangerous balance the Blood Moon Inn held, especially when they saw a Shadow prying at the magical protection, trying to find a way inside. Once, a pair of traffickers had tried to capture her as well, so they could sell her off to one of the werewolf communities in the wastelands.
She'd laughed as they waved their swords, and snarled at her to come with them.
“I'm a witch, you utter fools,” was her response, presenting her enchanted miniature crossbow to them.
Neither lived to tell the tale.
She couldn't leave the inn, no matter how much she wanted it. Not yet. Still some things to do, and secrets to preserve. Everyone had their skeletons, after all.
She sighed relief as she saw someone appear, huge backpack swaying, and a mule behind them carrying two bags of items. She waited until they were within hearing range, then yelled, “About time. I was wondering if the Shadows had got to you or not.”
The man, an amiable trader only known to her as Kurtus, waved a lethargic arm at her.
She unloaded the goods with him, paid for his wares, and then allowed herself to rest and sip a little water. Then, making sure her assistant manned the bar, she ventured to her cellar, hidden behind two sets of doors, down a narrow, unlit corridor.
She walked down the steps towards a room with flickering light, and desks, chairs and an arsenal of weapons greeting her. The centrepiece of the room displayed the secret she had kept for years.
The sight sometimes hit Raine in the heart, and scrunched it into remembered grief and sadness. Upon the floor, lay a circle with runic patterns formed in blood. Raine's blood. Powered charcoal ringed the circle as an additional defense, and quartz crystals. Inside the circle hunched a formerly human woman, with veins as black as ink, dark, lifeless lips stretched over teeth. Black wisps of smoke peeled off the woman's skin.
The emaciated figure barely took heed of Raine's appearance. Her jaw clacked. Her grubby, infected fingers prodded at the blood barrier.
Mother. Raine sat in front of the woman, who now raised filmy eyes to meet her daughter's face.
The poor woman had survived a Shadow attack, only to have the infection spread across her skin – an unheard-of event. After all, Shadows killed in an absolute manner. They didn’t infect. Her mother had asked to be imprisoned, so when the infection took over, Raine could find use in studying the body, in trying to work out how Shadows functioned, what hurt them, what could be done with them.
All her enchantments came from this creature. Raine took out a syringe, and grabbed the Shadows hand, pulling it over the barrier. The hand stretched beyond the barrier stiffened, paralyzed by the spell, and Raine stuck the needle into the Shadow's flesh, siphoning out the black blood. With a grim smile, she pushed the Shadow's arm back into the circle.
“You can't... keep me like this forever,” the thing hissed, using her mother's lips to speak.
“You're right, Shadow,” Raine agreed. “When I have no use for you, you'll die.” No way would she ever let such a foul creature loose upon the world. She fished out her collection of not yet enchanted werewolf teeth, and her new experiment the sabre, which she planned to enchant after finishing the ballista request. Werewolf blood or infected blood worked equally well for weaponry. She stared at the creature that was once her mother.
Thank you, mom, for your sacrifice. With her mom's choice, with Raine's relentless experimenting and supply drops, she ranked as one of the best wasteland arms trader, though she needed to buy the weapons herself, rather than make them from scratch. The werewolves offered a lot in goods to get their hands on such weapons.
In the corner, another pet project lay in the works of being enchanted – a ballista for long range firing. So far, she hadn't been able to make the enchantment stick, which frustrated her to no end. The Spine wolves wanted the project done by two full moons, and the second one already approached. Obviously, with their domain being close to the Fractured City, they were the ones under almost constant attack. They needed their defenses.
Busy, busy. Always so busy. She focused on the werewolf teeth first, the easiest things to enchant. Envisioning them in her mind, she dripped tainted blood onto each of them, humming a wordless tune. The magic pushed itself out of her voice and tapped at her reserves directly linked to her brain. The more she enchanted, the heavier her brain became, and the more intense the headache formed.
Wouldn't be great if she accidentally exploded her brain, so it always paid for a witch to know their limits. Each tooth, as the energies affected it, took a gray sheen, merging with the blood and her words. Sweat formed on her forehead, as the four teeth glimmered, fully empowered with her magic. Now to the ballista.
For whatever reason, the Shadow's blood did not work effectively after her first syringe pull, and it needed a full day's recovery before the magic there became potent again.
Would be more effective if I can confine multiple Shadows. But the only ones I know can be captured are former humans. Or, well, one human. And I'm not about to go around deliberately infecting others, just for the opportunity for more weapons.
She hated dilemmas, sometimes. With the remaining blood, she poured it upon the ballista, and began the enchantment process. Again, the words slipped out of her throat, and again, the headache worsened, until it became a pounding inferno in her brain.
Eventually, she stopped, resisting the impulse to dry heave, clutching at her temple. She examined the almost complete weapon after a moment of rest. Two more days. Then I think it'll be fully enchanted. She'd toyed with just enchanting the bolts the weapon held, as it cost far less energy, but also knew that if the weapon responsible for firing was fully treated, then the power automatically transferred to the ammo. No point asking her why, though, because she didn't fully understand it herself. Pretty useful, however. Once she got past the constant pounding headache in her skull.
“We grow more powerful,” the Shadow gurgled, leering at her in a human approximation of glee. “Soon your little barriers and attempts at confinement will be worthless.”
Raine rolled her eyes at the creature which wore her mother's shell. “Is your purpose little else but to destroy life?”
The Shadow hissed, but did not respond to this. Raine had tried interrogating the creature many times over the years, when she first discovered it talked. The memory of that day still sent a shiver down her spine. She'd thought none of the monsters knew how to speak. When it used her dead mother's tongue, she had wanted to cut it out, just so it couldn't taunt her through the lips of someone she once loved. It liked to spit curses at her, inform her helpfully that she was going to die a painful death when it sucked the marrow from her bones – but it refused to give up pertinent information. Hard to extract information from a creature that didn't feel pain.
Recently, however, it had been letting slip of an increase in power, which fascinated Raine. It suggested that somewhere, Shadows were all interconnected. That they communicated to each other in some form. The creature was capable of gaining information it simply had no access to, because Raine shared nothing with it.
It also gave a new, twisted edge to the reason why there were frequent forays to her inn by Shadows. They knew she kept one prisoner.
Either they cared about the prisoner, or they cared that Raine didn't extract the blood to wreak retribution. Neither thought made her happy. It suggested organization, forethought, planning. Albeit, not advanced enough to start throwing firebombs at her residence.
I may not be able to keep this up for much longer. I think I'll have to kill my main source of income. Bandits are getting bolder, too. Werewolves are putting out requests for women.
As she turned her back to make her way out of the dusty cellars, the Shadow croaked, “We simply take back what once belonged to us.”
“You're parasites,” Raine snapped at it. “You steal. You mindlessly consume without any purpose.”
“Not so. Our God gave us this land. Disgusting red bloods like you, with your soft little Gods, took it from us. You destroyed us. But we knew the ways of the deep magic. We live on.”
We live on. The words stuck with Raine when she finally left. It disturbed her to think that the Shadows might have a purpose beyond consuming living creatures. A mindless enemy was easy to defeat. An intelligent enemy meant something harder and sinister in the works.
What kind of magic did the Shadows have, if we apparently eradicated them? Our histories don't mention anything about places belonging to them. Just a record of when they first appeared.
A thought occurred to her. The way it seemed to gain information. Mind magic. Possession.
Just as she entertained this notion, her only assistant, Zetti, came screeching to a halt in front of her. “Raine. There's a werewolf. He's been asking after you.”
Raine sighed, patting the lad on his dark mop of hair, before walking past the two men who played a card game in the corner, and towards the newcomer in the bar, who observed her with glowing yellow eyes and an imperious expression upon his lips.
“Are you here for trade, Lunehill wolf?” Raine inspected the sigil printed onto his fur coat. It depicted a hill with a slice of moon engraved onto it, and the silhouette of a wolf. Disappointment and caution warred inside her. She'd expected a Spine wolf, perhaps to check up on the status of the ballista. She didn't yet know the intentions of the Lunehill clan. She'd never before interacted with them. Just heard the tales of the powerful witches that once ran rampant there, including the Snow Witch and the Cursed Queen.
Witches who inspired other witches to their craft. Her favorite story as a child had been when the Cursed Queen, dying of corruption, used the last of her power, along with the sacrifice of a thousand other witches to create the Lunar Wastes. To form the single most powerful thing that hindered the Shadows. Women who gave their lives to ensure generations afterwards survived.
The werewolf chuckled. Raine took the time to examine his face in better detail. The thin beard that framed his oval cheeks gave him a full, confident look. Long eyelashes protruded from his dark yellow eyes, and the thin lips curled in a pleasing manner. The hint of muscle showed itself in his strong forearm, where veins tapered around his muscles and tendons.
Not bad looking, at all. “In a manner of speaking. I've heard some interesting things about your... weapon crafting.”
Raine folded her arms, ignoring the throbbing exhaustion in her skull. She was also keenly aware of her vulnerability, without her full magic reserves. Bad timing, really. At least she still had her mini crossbow. “I've not traded with the Lunehill, before. My main trades are the Spine and the Dreadwood.”
The werewolf sat at one of the pockmarked, wooden tables, drumming his fingers upon the surface. “The Dreadwood are a tiny band of nomads. Not worth your time.”
“They also have one of the highest kill counts of Shadows,” Raine pointed out, incensed. Her former lover had been a Dreadwood, before he vanished, fighting the good fight. “Because they actively roam in search of the enemy, rather than always sitting around for them to come. All your kind sacrifice – but they more than others. Do not mock the brave.”
The handsome werewolf cleared his throat, a flash of annoyance there. “I am here to request that you join Lunehill. Our only witch there is near death. She requires an apprentice to train, to help defend against the Shadows.”
“Not interested.”
A sense of menace emanated from the werewolf. Raine suspected he had been tasked to bring her back to Lunehill, at any cost. Her hand twitched towards her crossbow. “What do you call yourself, werewolf?”
“Linther.” His eyes were flinty specks. “I have heard that you might be one of the most powerful witches in the region. And you fetter away your talent in a wayward inn.” He ground out the words, clearly disdainful of her position.
Raine's thoughts dwelled on the Shadow in her cellar. “That's right. I like things the way they are. Booming business and all that.”
“Hmm.” The werewolf's aura turned aggressive. As soon as he bent his legs, Raine whipped out her mini crossbow and pointed it at him.
“No. Find another witch. I'm not budging from this place.”
The werewolf narrowed his eyes, staring down the tiny weapon, which seemed ludicrous in her hands, except Raine knew full well the amount of damage her little monster slayer did against supernatural creatures.
Certainly, enough to cripple the werewolf in front of her. Part of him seemed to retain enough intellect to not insult or try to push a witch. Possibly because from his perspective, she'd flay his skin off or enact some magic shenanigans of which he had no understanding.
Besides, even if she wanted to give up her business with the Blood Moon Inn, she certainly couldn't leave the Shadow by itself in the cellar. Not when she needed it to continue crafting her weapons, her protections. People who admired how powerful her magic was, simply did not have access to the same resources as her.
Linther glowered at her, but didn't press the matter. He didn't dare contest her magic, even though she had barely enough to conjure up to force through one finger.
He left, departing into the icy chill outside, where the endless snows swirled. Raine chewed her lip. Shame, really. Good looking guy. Might have been fun to lure him into her bed for a romp, if he hadn't been so moon-bent on dragging her to Lunehill because they lacked witches.
One day, maybe. When I'm done forging everything I can. When the travelers stop coming, seeking a warm abode in a place gripped by remorseless winter.
Several more days passed since the werewolf's visit. A headache ripped through her skull, as she sat in her macabre workshop, panting in satisfaction at the finally completed ballista. She was now up to date with all her enchantments, and eager to start her next project. She wanted to try enchanting the sabre next, planning to test its potency in combat. When the two Spine wolves came a couple of days later, to ask if the ballista was ready, Raine presented it to them upon the bar.
They sniffed at it, appreciative, before giving her the promised items in trade – food supplies, their delicious Spine Mountain brew, and more weapons to bolster.
Satisfied. Good. Business boomed, and more travelers stopped at the inn, drinking and feasting their way through a cosy night.
She had hoped, of course, for many more successful days like this.
One night, after officially closing the bar, and her four guests slumbered in their linen beds, Raine worked on her pet projects in the cellar. Candles lit up the bleak room, filtering through tiny vents hammered into the walls, though it still gave the place a choking sensation. The Shadow that wore her mother's body watched her in unnerving silence, and it felt as if a ghost was breathing upon her shoulder as she worked on her new assortment of weapons.
Sometimes, disgust wrought inside when she looked at it. The features had sunken in, appearing less like the mother she knew, with her red-flushed cheeks, her silken red hair and her voluptuous body. Now the host resembled a shrunken, pasty figure where the clothes hung onto skin and bones, giving it a waxy, cursed appearance.
Not quite a pure Shadow. Not quite a human. In-between. Maybe that's why it is able to talk? It is using my mother's brain?
Her theories on Shadows remained woefully inadequate. They came from the Fractured City. The Wastes were formed by the thousand and one witches who knew the cold was a Shadow's weakness. Their bones still lay across the landscape, treasures for any witches who could utilize their magical power.
What else?
Well, she didn't know they talked, until this one infected her mother.
Sighing, Raine concentrated upon the finely crafted metal sword, dripped the Shadow blood onto it, and allowed the magic to tease out her throat, throb her brain and envelop the sword so that it gleamed with new strength.
The headache hammered at her brain – but there was just a tiny bit more to enchant, just... she gritted her teeth and pushed onto the last section, and the whiplash from the action caused her to curl up on the floor clutching at her head as the pain spiked every nerve.
The Shadow cackled. “Went too far there, this time? Silly little witch.”
“Curse... you...” Raine croaked, breathing heavily, eyes scrunched shut to try and filter the migraine.
Her senses spun. Her mind sunk into oblivion, exhausted by the effort of the spell.
**
She woke up to chaos. At first, her brain struggled to comprehend the shrieks, screams and curses that went on, along with the sounds of splintering wood. Somehow, she had fallen unconscious, for moon knew how long – and she gasped in horror as she looked at the center of the ring, and saw the Shadow no longer there.
Her mind raced double time. Four skeletons lay on the floor. All her weapons were scattered around, the tables overturned, some with hack marks in them. The circle was smudged, and one of the skeletons lay sprawled at the break within the magical protection.
What on moon has happened here? Panic kick-started her foggy brain. How had she slept through this? What happened? Why? Her thoughts snagged, hitching in terror like her breaths. Her hands trembled as she searched the room, and saw the cellar door hacked to pieces.
Lastly, her nostrils caught the distinctive, sharp wisp of smoke.
Fire.
Wall flickers of flames licked past the cellar door. New screams rent the air.
No! Galvanized into action, Raine dashed upstairs, only taking her sword and crossbow with her, and a pouch of werewolf teeth, leaving all her other projects behind.
She stumbled past the door, through another, stepping over three more skeletons draped in tattered robes – and burst through a door ringed by flames, to see her entire bar – her livelihood – going up in smoke.
“No!” She screamed, seeing the Shadow, the one supposed to be ensnared within her circle, place her blackened palms upon a hooded figure, who wailed feebly as the skin and flesh melted off their bones.
The Shadow turned to her as the flames flickered, and it grinned insidiously. “You really should have been awake for this.” It let go of the corpse's robes, and strode outside. Raine fumbled for her crossbow, attaching a bolt, and staggered outside after the Shadow, even as the cold bit into her.
Her heart froze in extra fright as she saw dozens upon dozens of Shadows silently lining the borders, waiting for the possessed body of her mother.
“No...”
The Shadow turned to her. “Tough life, being a witch, isn't it? Everyone wants you. Werewolves, human bandits...” The Shadow indicated the skeleton sprawled by the inn's entrance. The fire ate into the wood, slowing down as it touched the cold, damp outside.
“I'll kill you,” Raine hissed, understanding. Bandits must have broken in whilst she lay dead to the world. Looking for her. Torching the place. And somehow, freeing the Shadow.
“You can try.”
The Shadows milling about the barrier pushed... and stumbled past.
Raine's eyes bulged. “No.”
The Shadow grinned. “Strangely enough, I don't want to kill you. Perhaps a sentiment of this old body. But... I think my friends here might have a different idea.” The Shadow folded her arms as the others oozed forward in the darkness, illuminated by the blazing inn behind her.
My livelihood. Everything I've worked for. Everything I've strived for. Gone.
Raine didn't know how to use the sword professionally. And she had no magic left in her body to conjure. Even thinking about a spell caused a wave of vertigo and nausea to steal over her, and force her to the hard ground, knees burning in cold.
She raised the crossbow and fired it at the Shadow that talked.
The Shadow sidestepped, enjoying her futile efforts. “Oops.”
Shaking, she clicked the barrel attached to her crossbow, loading another bolt. One down. Five to go. Another bolt slid in place underneath the trigger.
A Shadow moved horrifically fast, slipping and sliding on the snowy cobbles, amorphous body groping for her. They were human approximations, rather than the solid flesh host that she kept imprisoned.
It's all over, isn't it? Everything. I never...
I'm sorry, mother.
Something snarled in the black, making Raine's heart leap. She shot at the closest Shadow, the bolt landing in its direct center, causing it to crumple into a floppy mass.
A werewolf, coated in silvery gray fur, crashed from the side of her inn, enormous barrel form skidding to her side. Urgently, the wolf bumped its hip against her leg. A whimper escaped his throat. Yellow eyes stared earnestly at her. He then turned to bark and snap at the approaching Shadows, which shied away.
Taking the hint, Raine clambered onto the wolf with shaking hands, wrapping her arms around his neck, legs squeezing his side. The beast towered as large as a horse, and she heard the Shadow laugh, rather than curse.
“Ah, werewolves are worthy adversaries... I suppose we'll have to meet again, Raine...” the voice trailed off into the distance, as the werewolf took rapid, bounding leaps across the snow, stocky chest heaving from his effort. Raine buried her face into his fur, petrified of letting go and falling into the snow, shivering from the wind that whipped at her. She wasn't exactly adequately dressed for the occasion.
Neither had her brief stint with a werewolf lover encouraged any sort of bareback riding into the blizzards.
Clinging onto the fur, with each bound and jar of her bones, she felt her heart being left behind, in the blazing inferno of the inn, the place she could no longer call home.