my words from the grove, and there’s something in the air that gives me a little nudge every time we pause to catch our breath.
“Keep going,” it whispers. “They need you.”
Although I get the impression we’re running out of time, I don’t feel like we’re in danger, which is a difficult concept to explain to the snarling elf at my side. Trusting in my gut feeling and the Great Mother who is guiding me, I simply dig deep and keep running.
As we near the meeting place where the tribes gather, I see two figures running towards us, my chest warming. Of course my mates would be waiting here to meet us, having felt my distress earlier, and then with our hasty return, they would have known something was wrong.
Vaeril is much faster, making it to us in what seems like seconds, his hands gripping my shoulders, bringing me to a halt as his eyes frantically scan me for injuries. Eldrin stumbles to a stop at my side, which catches Vaeril’s attention. Hissing like a cat, my mate turns to his friend, who is leaning forward to catch his breath, which for Eldrin is a sign of weakness he would never usually show.
Tor reaches me and pulls me against his chest. “Clarissa.” His deep voice rumbles through my body, and I release a sound of contentment as his arms wrap around me. Closing my eyes, I allow myself a couple of moments of comfort, but we can’t rest, not yet. A gust of wind signals the arrival of another elf, and when I open my eyes, I see Naril gripping Eldrin’s shoulders as he tries to get a response from his brother. It seems now that he’s stopped, weariness has overtaken him, and I don’t blame him. Even now, I can feel fatigue crawling along my limbs, making each one heavy.
Naril spins to face me, his teeth bared and his golden eyes wild. “What happened?” he demands, his voice forceful. I’ve never seen Naril like this before. His behaviour is more like what I’d expect from his brother, and I instinctively take a step back, only to bump into Tor’s solid chest. Vaeril frowns and places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, clearly worried about Eldrin but equally protective of me and still trying to get his own answers as to what’s happened.
“I will tell you, I promise,” I start, feeling the need to keep moving as I take Tor’s hand and begin walking in the direction of the camp, dragging him behind me. “But we need to get back to the tribe—”
“No!” Naril shouts, appearing in front of me, startling me to a stop as he blocks my path. “Not until I know what happened to him.”
Tor moves behind me defensively, and I know if I don’t settle this soon a fight is going to break out. “Please—”
“Clarissa! I need to know how to help him,” Naril begs, his face falling as he gestures behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Vaeril is talking to Eldrin in a low voice, and the scarred elf is leaning against my mate for strength. His wounds are mostly healed, but some of the larger ones are still bleeding and his chest is still a mess of blood. “He’s my brother. Please.”
Meeting his golden eyes, eyes like his brother’s, I take a deep breath and prepare for their horror. “It was my fault, I accessed my wood elf magic.” My words are quiet, as if by saying it softly, it could take away the awfulness of what happened. “We were sparring, and I spread my awareness like he instructed. The plants…well, they reacted.” Naril is frowning now, and I can’t look at him anymore. I don’t want to see his reaction when he realises I am the reason his brother is like this.
“What do you mean?”
Looking down at my clasped hands, I notice I still have dirt around my nails. “They protected me.”
There’s a pause as he absorbs what I’ve just said, and I wait for his hatred. “You’re telling me plants did this to him?” The surprise in Naril’s voice makes me look up. There’s no hint of disgust or anger there, just pure shock. Not knowing how to answer, I simply nod. “They must have done a number on him if healing the wounds is taking this much energy.” Naril is looking at his brother again, shaking his head as a rueful smile appears. “He’s never going to live this