Page 117 of Full Moon
Chapter 51
Easton
So far,so good.
I can't bring myself to fly too far from Feray in her weakened state. Every time I try, it's like a weight tugs at my heart, pulling me back to her side. The thought of leaving her vulnerable gnaws at me, so I circle back again, my wings beating against the prevailing wind.
Below me, the shadows seem to ripple with hidden dangers—every dark patch along the mountainside a potential threat waiting to spring. My instincts scream at me to ignite, to burn away anything that might be lurking. But fear grips me that if I do, I'll reveal our position to enemies nearby.
The warmth of the sun on my feathers is a welcome change, soothing the cold ache that settled in my bones after our time in the arctic. The memory of endless snow and ice still clings to me, the chill refusing to fully release its hold. The green of the trees below and the vibrant patches of wildflowers scattered across the mountainside are a refreshing sight—a stark contrast to the frozen wasteland we left behind.
I'd never admit it out loud, but I missed the warm thermals, the effortless glide that lets me soar with ease. Yet even as I revel in the warmth, the nagging worry for Feray keeps me from fully enjoying it. Every gust of wind feels like a warning. I tighten my circle, my gaze constantly flicking back to where she rests.
My mind drifts to everything we uncovered in the north, and it makes my head spin. The realization that the packs had been engineering Feray's birth for generations is still hard to wrap my head around. The thought of the Wild Hunt wiping out the winter wolves sends a shiver down my spine. I can't help but marvel at the power Feray wields even outside her seat of power.
It's terrifying and awe-inspiring all at once.
As I pass overhead again, I notice Feray has fallen asleep, her exhaustion pulling her under despite everything. Her legs hang limp, only to be caught by Torben, who grips them carefully, ensuring they don't dangle.
Something catches my eye—a flicker of movement among the rocks. Subtle, yet out of place. I pause mid-flight, wings beating in a steady rhythm as I hover just long enough to see what it is. A surge of dread grips me, cold and unrelenting. Giant ants. Their bodies almost blend into the craggy terrain, their massive mandibles glinting menacingly in the sunlight.
My heart skips a beat.
They weren't there on the way up.
This is a trap.
Those jaws could easily crush a leg or snap a head clean off. The danger is too close, too real. Adrenaline spikes through my veins.
Instinct takes over, primal and fierce. Without hesitation, I ignite. Flames surge from my core, roaring to life with a ferocity that matches the terror gripping my chest. I unleash a torrent of fire onto the rocks below, the heat searing the surrounding air. The ants erupt from their hiding spots, shrieking in a high-pitched, agonizing wail that grates on my nerves. Their bodies, engulfed in flames, thrash and stumble—a grotesque dance of death before they collapse into heaps of molten bug goo.
The stench of burning chitin fills the air, sharp and acrid, but I barely notice. My focus remains on the charred remains, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as I scan for more threats. How many more traps hide in these rocks?
Torben raises his fist, a silent command for the pack to halt. The group freezes, tension rippling through the air as we watch the flaming ants writhe and flail before they're snuffed out, one by one. I circle back toward the group, shifting mid-flight, feeling the cool air against my skin as feathers give way to flesh. I land lightly on the rock in front of Torben, my boots scuffing against the rough surface as I adjust my jacket sleeves.
"It was just giant ants," I say, keeping my voice low but firm. "They live up this way, but they weren't there on the way up."
My gaze shifts to Feray. She's still asleep, blissfully unaware of the chaos that just unfolded. A soft breath escapes her lips, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that somehow steadies my own.
"Those things can be nasty to deal with," Khal mutters, his eyes locked on the thin trail of black smoke curling up from the charred remains.
"It's easier to torch them or turn them to stone," I reply, still watching Feray. Her peaceful slumber contrasts with the harsh reality around us. I shrug, trying to reassure myself that everything's fine, even if the tension in my gut says otherwise.
"She's okay," Torben says, a soft smile playing on his lips. "She fell asleep about forty feet or so ago." There's a hint of pride in his tone. "I made my bear do his rumble that makes her fall asleep quick."
His chuckle is a welcome break in the tension, but my focus remains on Feray, every instinct screaming at me to stay alert. Even in this moment of relative calm, I scan the surroundings, ears attuned to every rustle. The threat may be gone for now, but I know better than to let my guard down.
I shift back into my phoenix form but don't ignite my feathers. It's already bad enough that I torched part of the mountainside. The last thing I need is to draw more attention.
Torben changes direction, avoiding the charred remains just in case more ants hide in the surrounding rocks. His massive form moves with caution as he leads the pack down to the forest floor. It takes about twenty minutes to get everyone to safety. I swoop down, skimming just above the treetops, and guide them toward the grass field Diaval found when he pursued the bats. In the field now lie almost a dozen goats and sheep from his hunt.
I land softly, shifting back to human form. The cool air brushes against my skin as I remove my jacket, draping it over a low-hanging limb. The scent of fresh blood mingles with the crisp forest air. Khal brings my bag over, and I nod my thanks as I tuck my coat away. We walk to where Diaval stands in the field, his back to us, his hands shifted into claws as he slices into the sheep with precision.
The moment the scent of blood hits the air, I feel a shift in the atmosphere—as if something ancient and wild has been awakened. Feray stirs against Torben's back. Her movements are subtle at first, almost imperceptible. But then I see the change—the way her body tenses, muscles coiling tight beneath the cloth that swaddles her.
A low, guttural sound escapes her lips.
I know that sound.
