The wolf leaps at me, mouth wide and teeth bared, ready to clamp down on my throat until it’s jerked violently upward, then to a halt midair as though it’s caught in an unseen snare. Its jaws clamp shut inches from my face as a raw, broken snarl tears from its throat.
Rain hammers down around us, but the space between the wolf and me feels unnaturally still. Its wet fur reeks of rot, the kind of decay that shouldn’t exist in anything still alive, as its bloodshot eyes flick wildly, glassy with sickness rather than rage.
Foam gathers at the corners of its mouth as its struggles weaken and limbs twitch like they no longer belong to it. My body betrays me as my muscles lock me against the wall as pain flares through my ribs and fear blurs the edges of my sight.
“Move, Alyssa!” Elder Yona’s
