Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,48
be more inclined to help. I see now I was wrong, but what’s done is done.”
“Everyone knows my father too.” I patted his chest. “That doesn’t make it cool to namedrop.”
I pushed off his shoulders and situated myself on the rough limb beside him.
A fierce grumble made Rook bolt upright.
“False alarm.” I put a hand to my stomach. “We should have packed supplies before we left.”
“The hunt...” His voice trailed into silence.
“Doesn’t last long enough to bother with food or other niceties,” I finished for him.
Pleasant as our stolen moment had been, talk of the hunt made me twitchy. I had to move. I needed to pace, to walk, to do something other than make myself a sitting target.
Climbing the tree went faster in reverse. I hit the ground and stretched out the kinks in my back and shoulders while Rook cheated his way down by sprouting wings and gliding onto my shoulder. Considering how smooth his flight was, his broken arm must have healed without any complications. He was heavier as a bird than I expected. Curiosity won out, and I reached up to stroke his chest.
I grinned as his beak worried the pad of my finger. “Are you scouting ahead or sprouting legs?”
Rook cawed and shoved off my hand, flapping his wings until he vanished from sight.
The cramps in my legs thanked me when I started walking.
While Rook was about his business, I decided I should get serious with mine. Trees were nice, but yesterday’s dryad encounter convinced me they were not the safest place to make my stand. One spirit in the right place could shove me off a branch or—as an extreme measure—another equally invested fae could chop down my refuge.
Autumn’s endless forest gave dryads plenty of options for their next sensual attack. Winter was out of the question. No death wish here. That left my options as Summer, which would be out for blood to reclaim the Seelie throne, and Spring. I was betting Spring was where the tether spat us out into Faerie.
That made it as close to home as I might ever be again.
Between the singing toadstools and all the slithering vines, the hounds and I would be at an equal disadvantage there. Surviving in Spring might prove as difficult as fending off the beasts. Not a boost for my slim odds, but at least I wasn’t rolling belly up either. It could work. Now I only had to get there.
The púca said his burrow was near the border, so I angled my brisk walk in that direction.
Only when I became breathless did I realize how fast I was going. Tingles swept over me when I stopped to ease the catch in my side. Ahead, the forest thinned and the ground turned green and bursting with life. Already my ears caught the mashup of birdsong, enchanted melodies and the chirp of rowdy crickets.
The urge to run tensed my calves as the first howl echoed through the forest.
I inhaled but smelled nothing. Spirits had scents. The hunt must be masking theirs. Too bad I hadn’t been able to do the same. Gulping the panic coating the back of my throat, I ran for Spring. I passed potential weapons, but kept going. Fear chipped away at my plans, urged me not to think but to flee. I hit the edge of Spring and sighed as if crossing that invisible line made any difference.
A blur to my right surprised a scream out of me before I realized it was Rook and not a hound.
Clutched in his talons hung a limp rabbit...a pinkish one.
“You go ahead.” I spotted a large boulder. “I’m not hungry.”
Rook dove in front of me, causing me to stumble, before he darted toward the rock. He met me on the highest peak, nudging the corpse toward me with his beak. He flexed his wings until I lifted it.
“I don’t understand.” Holding it gave me the willies. “What do you want me to do?”
A throb of power banished the bird and left a swirl of magic at my elbow.
“Skin it,” Rook ordered.
An eager howl made me flinch. “Fine.” Anything to get us moving again.
After reciting my Word, I removed my glove. Transferring the rabbit into my left hand, I fed a steady stream of magic into its limp body. This time there was no pain to share as my power scissored beneath its skin, slicing the mottled fur away from the muscles. The pelt slid from the body into my hand.
“I don’t understand.” I