Immediately, the tension left the male’s body and his lids grew heavy. The blood lust Verakko had felt a moment ago ebbed as the life faded from the Strigi’s eyes, and as always, a sliver of regret knotted in him. His mother would’ve been ashamed if she’d seen him grant that small mercy.
A booming voice echoed through the clearing. “We need one of them alive for questioning.”
Before Verakko could regain his composure and jump back into the fray, a sizzling thud hit the back of his head, and then everything went black.
***
Shards of ice pelted Verakko’s face, rousing him. His head was pounding furiously, but his body felt weightless. He peered below himself and froze. Fear coursed through his veins, dissolving all of his pain and leaving terror in its place. One of the Strigi was holding him by the arms and flying, its wings buffeting the chilled air around them.
Being this high up was Verakko’s worst nightmare come to life. His heartbeat banged out of control in his chest, and his breaths grew shallow.
He needed to find a way down. Now.
Closing his eyes, he forced his mind to calm, the way he always did whenever he had to deal with heights. You aren’t afraid of the height, you’re afraid of the fall and the ground. All you need to do is get closer to the ground.
Below him was the Sauven Forest. It had to be. He couldn’t possibly have been unconscious for that long.
He glared up toward the Strigi holding him. Cuts and fresh bruises marred the male’s face, and a wince was permanently etched in his expression. How could he sway the male? What might he have already been thinking? A communicator strapped to his left bicep caught Verakko’s eye. He shot a glance to his own bicep and found his communicator missing. Shit!
As they passed through a particularly dense, low-hanging cloud, shards of ice stung their skin again. The male cursed under his breath, and Verakko had his answer.
“It would be much easier to fly lower. Out of the path of these clouds.” Verakko kept his voice low yet audible.
Without glancing to Verakko, the male suddenly scanned the ground, eyes searching for any signs of life.
Verakko swayed again. “There are only trees down there. No one to see if you don’t follow orders.”
The male dipped, heading out of the clouds and down into warmer air. He leveled out into a glide several hundred feet above the forest.
Still too high.
“Your wings are so sore from all this extra weight. Maybe you should find a spot to rest for a moment.”
The male dipped until the treetops were only a few feet away but then squinted and shook his head. The sway wasn’t holding. Verakko glanced down again, and his insides twisted. He might survive a fall from this height, but…the pain. Memories of cracked bones and limbs twisted at odd angles assailed him.
One more try.
“Your throat is dry. There’s a river up ahead. A perfect place for a drink.”
The male’s eyes narrowed on the river in question, but then they widened, and Verakko knew he’d shucked off the sway entirely.
Mustering all the strength he had left, Verakko shot his legs up and wrapped them around one of the male’s large wings. They banked sharply, spinning and diving into the dense trees below. The male flapped but couldn’t dislodge the tight grip of Verakko’s legs while also holding him by the arms. Wrenching one arm loose, Verakko grappled to pull the communicator free, but the device slipped between his fingers and tumbled into the rushing river below. Verakko cursed and clutched the male’s forearms, lunging and snapping his teeth at any bit of flesh he got close to.
He managed to inject the few remaining drops of venom he had left as his fangs scraped across the male’s upper arm. It might not kill the Strigi, but it would do damage.
The male looked at his oozing cut, aghast. As Verakko had feared and hoped, the male let go.
For a moment, Verakko hung in midair. Then, he was falling. He tried to make his body go limp, knowing a stiff form would only cause more damage. The navy-blue sky disappeared a moment before his shoulder crashed into a branch, sending stars dancing across his vision.
He tried to grab onto the small sticks and twigs that tore at his skin, but every time he caught sight of a suitable limb or sapling in the darkness, it was too late. The trees continued to batter his body until one particularly dense, low-hanging limb cracked his head. His vision wavered. Soft ground could be felt underneath him. He was no longer falling. As the world went dark once again, he recalled lying in a ditch in a similar position. Broken and wondering if he’d ever be found.
Chapter 3
Pink juice from the fruit Lily bit into squirted onto her dingy yet clean white shirt, and she ground her teeth. Already? Only that afternoon had she taken precious hours to wash and dry her clothes. Why had she even bothered?
For about a week now, Lily had been hiking alone through this alien forest, and it was wearing on her. The constant hunger and thirst, incessant bug bites, and perpetual state of hyperawareness were all things she’d never enjoyed on Earth and now despised. To top it all off, she’d lost a good ten pounds from her already slender frame.
Throwing the small fruit into her woven grass bag, Lily glared at the flickering flames of her bright fire, no longer concealed in a pit, and became lost in her own thoughts. The small clearing she’d found two days ago was one of the more comfortable spots she’d camped while searching for Alex. The patch of soft, moss-covered earth was within walking distance to the
