Beauty's Beast - By Jenna Kernan Page 0,4

body.

“No!” he shrieked, rising to follow the retreating storm, only to be tossed back to the ground by the thumping hooves of the Thunderhorses. He had never suffered such an indignity. The audacity of a Supernatural touching a true Spirit enraged him. But still he lay impotent in the mud as above him the bear disappeared into the same vortex that had taken the Seer and her offspring.

“Follow him!” he shrieked, but his words were lost to the roaring wind, and his children rolled past him like tumbleweeds.

Two of his children managed to change into their essence, billowing upward into the storm like a volcano erupting below the sea. But they were blasted apart and fell in pieces all about him, dead or dying.

“Useless, brainless fools!” he roared at his fallen children.

The last mighty Thunderhorse galloped after his brothers, the great eagles who carried the old bear. Nagi watched them go, unwilling to chance pursuit.

The massive storm above him broke apart, sweeping away in the four directions. Nagi turned in a slow circle.

Which storms carried the Seers?

* * *

Samantha spun in space. She had long ago stopped fighting the winds that tore at her, tossed her, tumbled her like clothing in a dryer. Instead, she gave herself over to the whirlwind and found she could breathe and that the needles of ice did not chill her or cut her skin. She was as dizzy as a child barrel-rolling down a hill. And when she spilled onto the ground, she fell hard, tearing the clothing from her knees and scraping the skin from the palms of her hands. The pain came a moment later. Samantha glanced at her stinging hands in time to see the blood welling from multiple tiny abrasions.

She groaned and rolled to her back, closing her eyes against the spinning sensation that continued even though she was now still. Gradually the wooziness receded and she opened her eyes. Above her, tall trees towered, elephantine trunks with deeply grooved reddish-brown bark. She recognized them instantly even though she had never seen them in person. These were the mighty sequoias. She breathed deeply, scenting pine, moss, the sweet fragrance of rich soil and the ground squirrel that had recently passed this way.

In what seemed moments, she had flown from above the Arctic Circle to California. She braced, waiting for Nagi to appear, but the minutes ticked by, birds flitted through the forest and she sensed no threat.

She glanced at her palms, now sticky with blood. A sweep of her hand brought an electric zip of energy as her clothing transformed. Her boots, snow pants, parka and gloves reconstituted to create a fairly respectable copy of the uniforms she had seen the foresters wearing, with serviceable work boots, olive-green slacks and a tan jacket with the familiar white patch on the left sleeve.

The soreness of her muscles and the annoyance of the blood on her palms brought her to her feet to search for sixteen stones. She placed them in a healing circle and managed to repair the minor damage to her body even without the tobacco and sage needed to sanctify the circle or the feather she used to focus her energy. Her stomach knotted as the gravity of what she had done settled on her like mist.

Were they safe?

Had the Supernaturals done as her father requested and taken her to the raven, or carried her elsewhere? Her father said the Thunderbirds knew the fates of us all. Where had the Supernatural beings taken her?

The crack of a branch brought her about. Nagi?

Someone or something was here. She inhaled, finding the new scent of another creature, but she could not identify it. It was sweet, like the rich soil and the autumn leaves. This was not the scent of any animal she knew. But it certainly was alive. She could hear it breathing.

Samantha weighed her options—attack or run.

She crouched, preparing to change and charge. There were few creatures who would face a charging grizzly, especially one who was frightened and without her family for the first time since birth.

What was hiding behind that massive trunk? A Toe Tagger? Her father’s warning bounced up in her mind. If you see a Toe Tagger, run.

Something stepped into tall ferns. She hesitated as she realized it was a man, a hauntingly beautiful man with fine silvery blond hair that swept the shoulders of his charcoal-gray wool sports jacket. His slacks and fitted cashmere sweater were also gray, but more the color of a