Trix stretched out on the extra cushioning, exhaled, and instantly fell asleep.
I envied my furry friend’s ability to find oblivion despite her adventure. Wondered if the vet’s sexy-as-chocolate hands had anything to do with it.
I sighed. Switched on the TV, set it to barely audible, and turned my back to it. Eventually, my trembling stopped, and my eyes grew heavy...
The forest was wild and thick, true Canadian Shield—a mix of pine and spruce interspersed with maple and aspen, with thickets of alder and dogwood at their base.
My feet carried me down a path of twisted roots and exposed rock. Familiar surroundings from many of the hikes I’d taken over the last year, but I wasn’t sure I recognized the trail itself.
My efforts weren’t helped by the darkness of the night. Moonlight filtered down through branches that waved in a strong breeze. The entire thing was a little spooky, and apparently Trix wasn’t part of my misfiring synapses.
Mind you, a forest was infinitely preferable to some of the nightmares my mind dredged up. Definitely better than the flashing lights, the clash of metal, and undefinable terror.
Yet despite that, the fine hairs on my neck rose. Because I was suddenly filled with the conviction that I was not alone.
A branch cracked—as though something large had stepped upon it. My heart thundered as I paused on the path and squinted into the shadows.
And then, a howl. A lonely, desperate sound. But close. Far too close.
Branches thrashed as a big form pushed through—heading straight for me. Dream or not, reason reasserted itself. I spun, and ran. As fast as I could, tripping over the roots, sure that at any moment, the creature attached to that howl would pull me down, and tear me apart.
The path led to a clearing, and I slid to a stop in the center of it, breathing harder than I ought to be. I’d been so frightened, I’d held my breath as I ran.
The wind rose, sighing through the trees, rattling the leaves. As the gust abated, I heard something else. Something that drummed at the earth with a rhythm that my heart matched.
A horse cantered into the clearing. It was a magnificent animal, huge, with a glossy gray hide and a wealth of mane and tail that danced in the air as it reared. So beautiful that I had trouble breathing as I gazed upon it.
Its eyes were so pale a gray they were almost silver. And the expression in them—I’d never seen such eyes on a horse. As it tossed its heavy mane, my eyes riveted on what was revealed.
In the center of its head was a horn. Spiral, longer than my arm from elbow to fingertip.
My heart slammed to a halt. This wasn’t a horse. It was a freaking Unicorn.
A Unicorn.
I’d always thought they were associated with peace and love and virgins. But this Unicorn snorted steam at me, flattened its ears, and snapped at the air. Its eyes glowed—they radiated anger. And arrogance.
The meadow darkened as something passed between us and the moon—a cloud? I glanced upward, just as a form flashed by overhead. Darker than the night, and huge.
The Unicorn uttered a deep, hoarse stallion shriek. It fastened its silvery gaze upon me, reared and spun, to vanish the way it had come.
Real or not, my legs shook. What had flown over us? My mind refused to seize on any one possibility.
The howl sounded again, much closer this time, and I shivered. It sounded so alone, and it resonated right through me.
Flying monsters and Unicorns and howling wolves. I’d had enough. Time to wake up. Wake up. Wake up!
I tried. Closed my eyes. Concentrated, and attempted to leave the forest behind. But when I opened them again, I was still in the clearing.
And I was no longer alone.
He—somehow, I knew it was a he—stood not more than twenty feet from me. He was a wolf, sort of. If a wolf was the size of a bear, with a mane of hair around its head that glinted blond in the moonlight, and great ropes of muscle that rippled beneath brown fur with golden streaks. The fangs and claws were at least three inches long.
As he gazed upon me, his brilliant emerald eyes glimmered with intelligence.
I had ceased to breathe, and now I did so, drawing in a huge gulp of air. It pumped strength into my shaking limbs, and I backed away.
He tilted his head at me and whined, sounding so much like Trix that I froze. Then the massive creature crouched, dropping his broad head as if offering a gesture of submission. His emerald gaze, though, never left my own. It hooked into my soul and lured me...
