Savage King: New Worlds - Milly Taiden Page 0,5

to faraway dimensions.

Mother of the Land created the only portal in their dimension when she saved their world from the dark magic. These three must know the goddess. Maybe he wouldn’t eat them. But he’d follow them. Try to learn why they were here. Yes, that was a good idea.

Early on as they traveled through the jungle, he figured out they were not hunters. With as much noise as they were making with their mouths and feet, no creature would remain nearby. Unless it was hungry, looking for prey.

The females had a bad habit of reaching out to touch the flowers. Didn’t they not know of the dangers lingering all around them?

He hurried forward, keeping a parallel path to theirs, but far away enough they wouldn’t see him through the plants. With his black fur and yellow streaks that blended into the environment, he could walk next to them, and they wouldn’t notice him.

They were coming up on the floret that spit poisonous darts. He never worried much about the flower since the stingers weren’t strong enough to penetrate his thick fur. But these fae—he took a deep breath—strange smelling fae, didn’t have a protective pelt.

The female lead was going to brush against the danger if she kept her current track. He scooted ahead of them and crossed their path and slapped the stem to the ground. The dart dislodged sideways, shooting straight for his nose. He dove sideways, hitting his head against a tree. Dragon shit, that hurt.

His eyes searching for further danger, he spotted a ptheragon on a thick branch high overhead. The bird’s beady eyes followed the potential meal thrashing through the underbrush. Its spear-sharp beak—easily as long as his tigron body—opened slightly, preparing to pierce a fae through the belly. Its feathers ruffling as it readied to plunge.

As soon as the females passed below, the ptheragon launched from its high hiding place. Damnation. He had to time it just right, or the bird would zip by and stab the last fae. Sitting back on his haunches, his leg muscles tensed. His heart pumped so fast, he couldn’t count the beats. His eyes tracked the beast.

The bird’s body streamlined, wings tucked back. It whipped past branches and tall grass. Just before the beak reached the target’s back, he sprang. Claws extended, mouth open, ready to chomp on a bird neck, he flew through the air. He slammed into the fluffy body, cutting off its victory cry on the first chord. They crashed to the ground and rolled into dense ferns.

He heard the females scream and run off. Mouth filled with feathers, he tried to spit them out, but many stuck to his tongue and lips. Then a sharp pain in his flank turned his head. The bastard bird had poked him in the ass with its pin-point beak. Seeing that the bird was as big as he was, he batted its head and jumped away.

It squawked at him, no doubt angry, and flew into the branches. He continued along the path the visitors were on, needing to catch up. Before he shook off a feather stuck to his lip, a warm squishy blob splattered on his back. Then he smelled shit. Bird shit. In the air directly above, the bastard bird squawked a laugh and flew away. Piece of kappy shit. He didn’t have time to stop to get it off. No telling where those fae had gone.

He smelled his way to them. The one scent in particular enticing him forward. He didn’t want to lose it. Ever. It made his insides feel light, almost like he was a cub again. Playful and mischievous at the same time. And damnation, if he wasn’t smiling again. What power did this fae have over him that affected him so profoundly?

He heard heavy breathing ahead and slowed to find a place to spy from. The group had stopped.

“Anybody see what that thing behind us was?”

“It was big, whatever it was. It made enough noise to wake the dead.”

His female wrapped her arms around herself, fear coming from her again. His female? That sounded right. Suddenly, he wanted to be there beside her. Be the one with his arms around her. He wanted to comfort her. But he knew this animal would only scare them more. He’d been this way for so long, he didn’t recall what he looked like before the battle.

One of the girls wrinkled her nose. “You smell that?” The others sniffed. “Smells like someone took a dump

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