be a battle—just an escape. Hanging on to the human, she kicked as hard as she could. Bony fingers closed on her ankle, jerked them back down.
No. Ren cursed inwardly. She wasn’t going to die down here. Not like this.
Ren hissed again. She flexed her free hand, watched it shorten and broaden into an animal’s paw. She swiped down at the hand on her ankle.
Ren felt bones splinter under the blow. The rusalka screeched, the sound muffled by the water, and fell away. Its rotten hand scattered into a hundred tiny bones, floating slowly away in the gloom.
On every side, darkness writhed. Another rusalka lunged for Ren, but she hacked at it with her claws. With every blow, more skeletons fell away, bones splintering, empty mouths howling. She gripped the human tight and kicked upward.
Golden light marbled overhead. Her lungs burned. The human was like an anchor on her arm, motionless and silent. A rusalka grabbed her shoulder, but Ren’s heavy paw smashed its skull in two. She needed air.
She kicked with all her strength, ignoring the pain in her legs. Her lungs were in agony. She aimed only for that patch of light. She kicked harder, but she barely moved. She watched, in horror, as bubbles streamed from her lips. No—no—not like this—not for this—
A hand closed on her shoulder.
With the last of her strength, Ren turned. She felt slow. The world was getting dimmer.
The hand was yellowish-brown, with webbed, thick fingers. Wodnik. He blinked at her. Without a word, he gripped her tight and together they flew upward.
They broke the surface.
Ren gasped, gulping down the fresh forest air. It had begun to rain, and droplets pelted the river surface and bounced off the riverbank. She sputtered up the rank water. The human was heavier than ever, still not moving at all.
Wordlessly, Wodnik took them each in one hand and bore them to the riverbank. He heaved Ren onto the bank, then the human. The man was totally unconscious.
“Wodnik,” she gasped, between coughs. “Thank you—”
Wodnik didn’t reply. He was already slipping back into the murk, yellow eyes glowing, his toady face as serious as ever. Rain still hammering the water, he blinked once and faded away.
Ren caught her breath. She couldn’t even scrub at her eyes properly, she was shaking so hard. She wrapped her arms around her knees and dug in her nails. It took her a few trembling moments to realize that her left hand was still a paw. She’d scratched her own knee, and a thin line of red blood trailed down her shin. She ignored the blood. She held the paw in front of her and flexed each claw, watching them lengthen to fingers. The fur shivered and melted into smooth, rust-smeared skin. She let out a shuddering sigh. Her bloodstained human hand hugged her knees.
Thunder rolled overhead. It shook the trees to their roots, and Ren put her chin on her knees and shook with them.
Beside her, the human stirred at last. He lurched onto his side, spitting out river water. He twitched a bit but fell back into the mud. Then he was motionless again.
The horse was long gone, bolted into the underbrush. Ren looked over at him, cheek resting on her knees, arms drawn up around her. He had one hand over his eyes, and at least he was breathing. She didn’t ever want to do that again. Didn’t ever want to see the Dragon. Didn’t ever want to see a monster like that . . .
She reached out suddenly and touched his hand. Gently, she ran her own long fingers along the sinewy, puckered skin.
A burn.
The old-fashioned sword. The blood that had disappeared in flames. His horse had been decorated with antlers, she realized suddenly. Not just the ones mounted on its forehead; dozens of pairs had hung from the saddle, in precious metal and glass, so that the horse had chimed and glowed with every step.
Ren examined his hand, thinking.
The remaining fingers were so curled under that they looked like claws. The Golden Dragon had antlers.
The human started to pull back the wounded hand. Ren let it go. It fell to his chest, where the thickened, leatherlike skin looked even uglier against the black fabric. He didn’t open his eyes. Ren ran a hand over his jacket’s silver braid. She’d never seen clothes like this.
She put her hand on his cheek. Spread her fingers, like the rusalka had done. With her thumb, rubbed away the brownish blood. She wasn’t sure