The monster rushes between me and the wolf. They collide in a blur of cloak and claws and teeth. He feints, then the wolf is on him, snapping ferociously. There’s a sickening bite, and the monster cries out as the wolf catches his arm. He wrenches himself free with a snarl, the sound spat through his teeth. He looks just as fearsome as the wolf, just as dangerous.
He thrusts the torch forward. Sparks fill the air, and the wolf writhes. Then everything happens in a blur, so fast I can hardly parse together what I’m seeing. There’s the sound, a slice, a splatter of dark blood over the ground.
The monster shoves his hand against the earth where the soil is wet and black and blighted. The air gives a tremor, and the sense of wrongness from before builds and builds.
I can feel it in my chest. I can taste it, sour, on my tongue. Tendrils of darkness unfold from the ground and snare the wolf, wrapping its legs like vines. It whimpers, struggling to get free, teeth bared and eyes rolled back, white half-moons of fear.
With another snarl, the monster pulls his hand back from the ground. The shadows evaporate in a rush, and the wolf, freed, falls down with a yelp. It scrabbles to right itself, paws carving the mud, then turns and runs swiftly back into the forest.
The monster watches it go before collapsing onto his knees with a groan. His head hangs forward, his face hidden behind his hair. He holds his arm against his chest.
Arien throws down the branch and runs over to me. “I went to find him. He came back for you—he wasn’t going to, but we heard the wolf, and—”
I look quickly from the monster, slumped on the ground, to the forest, where a space has appeared between the trees. He won’t catch us now if we run. We can leave him here. We can go.
But Arien’s words are like a knife at my throat.He came back for you.
I take a halting step forward. “You saved me.”
The monster’s head snaps up. There’s a smear of blood near his mouth. His sleeve is torn, and on his arm is a deepwound—from teeth or claws or both—that bleeds freshly crimson. We stare at each other as the truth of it settles. This monster, who claims there’s darkness in my brother, who wanted to take Arien away and leave me behind, he came back for me.
I reach to my skirts, gather them up in my hands. The embroidered pattern I stitched at the hem is rough beneath my trembling fingers. It’s the nicest of my two dresses, the one I save for best. I wrap the linen around my hands and pull, hard.
I tear once, twice, then a piece comes loose with a loud rip. I hold the length of cloth out between us. The monster doesn’t move, but for just a breath his expression softens. It’s like seeing a mask slip then quickly be put back into place.
I crouch down beside him. “I can help you.”
He lets out a harsh laugh. “You’ve certainly helped quite well, so far.”
But he sits still while I wipe the cloth over the cut. Blood spreads through the fabric and onto my fingers. I start to shake, overcome as I remember my own blood, too bright and too fast, as Arien helped me wrap my knees. The cloth slips from my trembling fingers. I try to catch it but instead put my hand clumsily on the monster’s wrist.
He looks at me, startled.
“Sorry,” I manage. “I—I just—”
“If you’re going to be squeamish about blood, maybedon’trun into the blighted woods next time.”
“I didn’t know they were blighted!”
Impatiently, he grabs the cloth and starts to bind his arm.He moves deftly, not at all awkward, despite using only one hand. As though he’s done this before.
Then I see another cut on his palm, visible through a slash in his glove. I peer closer. It looks different from the cut on his arm. The blood is darker.
When he notes me staring, he quickly folds his fingers closed over it.
I tear another strip from my dress and hold it out to him. He snatches it from me, turning his back as he wraps the cloth around his hand.
When he starts to get up, I reach out to help him, but he ignores me. He struggles to his feet, then stands for a moment, his hands against his temples as he gathers himself. He swallows heavily and takes a deep breath. “Ashdamnit. You have both been one disaster after another.”
Arien lifts the torch from the ground and holds it out. “Thank you for coming back.”
“I’ll not save your sister a second time. Don’t run from me again, either of you.” He takes the torch, relights the end with a sparklight from his pocket. Then he jerks his head toward the trees. “Come on, let’s go.”
Wordlessly, we go back through the forest. The monster ahead, Arien and me close behind. Florence meets us partway with a lantern. Her eyes widen at the sight of the monster with his bloodied face and bandages on his arm and hand.
“What happened?” She reaches out, but he pushes her away.
“Never mind that. There’s a blighted grove.” He points toindicate the direction, then takes her lantern, giving her the torch in its place. “Go back and burn the trees. You’ll need to watch the fire so it doesn’t catch the whole forest.”
