felt numb all over. He peeled one eye open in time to see Root staggering to his feet. His dark eyes met Barclay’s own.
Just as Soren lunged forward to grab Barclay, he ran.
And when Barclay ran, Root followed.
The snow that had slowed him down before no longer bothered him. His legs moved so fast, they merely seemed to skim the ground. The trees flew past in a dark blur. Everything was so brutally strong—the wind, the hail, the speed—that Barclay quickly lost his balance. He grabbed onto a fistful of Root’s fur to steady himself. And when Root offered no disagreement, Barclay hoisted himself over Root’s back and hugged his arms around the Beast’s neck.
In that moment, the wind slowed to barely a tickle against his skin. Then to nothing at all.
They were running faster than the wind.
No—it was more than that. The edges of Barclay’s fingers were wisps, and Root’s black fur had the look and feel of smoke from a forest fire. They spun in spirals and curls. The sky and the ground seemed to infinitely change places.
This was Root’s power. His full power.
They had become the wind.
Barclay let out a second howl, this one of delight. And the entire world seemed to answer. The wilds recognized one of their own.
Within moments, it came to a stop. Barclay and Root collapsed at the edge of Sycomore, a crowd of people around them. Everyone gasped when the pair of them appeared, tumbling and leaving bloody streaks against white snow. Barclay was still clutching Root’s neck when strong arms hoisted him up.
“My boy!” Erhart rasped, his hands hot as he patted Barclay’s cheeks. “We all thought you were dead!”
Root stood up and crouched over Barclay protectively, and the onlookers stepped back to give him space. Even Erhart paled to be so close to him.
Barclay looked around, bewildered, at the other faces. Viola came charging through the crowd, and she threw her arms around him. Her face was streaked with tears.
“The exam’s been over for almost an hour! I wanted to go look for you, but—”
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “We’re both fine.”
“You’re not fine! Look at you!” She examined the blood on his shoulder. But as much as she fussed, the cut from Soren’s scalpel didn’t look deep.
More faces appeared in the crowd. Abel and Ethel stared at him, wide-eyed.
“B-Barclay!” Ethel choked, her face flushed. “How did you make it out?”
“We didn’t know we’d lost you!” Abel said.
But of them, no face looked more stricken than Tadg.
“We all bet you were dead,” he said, his voice strangely hoarse. His gaze fell on Barclay’s shoulder. “Who did this to you?” Barclay noted he asked “who,” and not “what.”
“Don’t you already know?” Barclay asked him coolly, and Tadg stiffened. “Soren attacked me and tried to carve off my Mark.”
Nervous titters swept across the crowd. Barclay was shocked that many other Masters, like the woman who had once pointed him in the direction of the Bog’s Inn, looked far more disgruntled than aghast. Clearly, Soren’s wealth had bought him many friends.
At the mention of Soren’s name, Erhart’s face grew even paler. “How unfortunate!”
“How unfortunate?” Viola echoed furiously. “He’s here as a Master! He attacked a student!”
“Y-yes, well, you see, how can I be expected to believe—”
“Enough!” Runa said, stepping forward. “Of course you can believe it. And given Soren’s reputation, this is really no surprise.”
“That’s conjecture,” Erhart shot back. “And ironic, I might add—coming from you, whose reputation is by no means clean. It’s only this boy’s word against Soren’s. Really now, Soren isn’t even here to defend himself.”
“That’s because I ran away from him!” said Barclay. “He’s still in the Woods!”
“That’s impossible, when Soren was doing very important business for me,” Erhart said.
Barclay squeezed his hands into fists. Of course, thanks to Soren’s donation to the Guild House, the High Keeper would willingly lie for him.
“How else would Barclay have gotten such an injury?” Runa demanded.
“He isn’t the only injured student to return from the Woods,” Erhart answered flatly. He then stalked off into the crowds, and Barclay angrily kicked at a mound of snow.
Beside him, Tadg knelt down in front of Root. He was the only person—student or Master—who dared to approach the Mythic class Beast. Then Tadg gathered up the fallen items from Barclay’s bag and handed it to him.
Barclay was too startled to say thank you, and Tadg didn’t wait for it. He stood up and walked away.
Floriane stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Now that the final student