Danger

The halfling hadn't stirred in hours, and outside, the humans were hunting. Mobs roamed the streets, sporadic shouts startled her, they even went from house to house down the street, and Derya waited anxiously for them to discover the old cellar.

The rhythmic beat of the halfling's heart assured her she was fine, but the way it had grown less thready, becoming stronger as time marched on, told a tale. Her breathing was no longer shallow and erratic either.

Whatever the poor creature did in her desperation had almost killed her.

Would she have exposed herself and intervened if the girl had not defended herself?

They would not be here now if she had.

Her eye caught the rune.

The flesh knitted back together slowly but surely like vines filling a hole in the soil, and the blackened edges had turned red, then pink.

Elves healed more quickly than humans but not as fast as werewolves, just as werewolves did not heal as fast as vampires. Whatever this child was, her human half was not what it seemed.

Someone prodded at the half-closed cellar door, trying to budge it, and she tensed, ready to fight. Her hand settled on the dagger, and her wolf lurked below the surface as her head lowered and her fangs threatened to show.

"Do you see anything, Miller?" someone called from further away.

"There's an old root cellar down here, but the door's stuck, and it doesn't seem to have moved in ages; there are no tracks either."

They had not used the door, but the hole in the roof wasn't visible from the road. The damp, moldy scent drew her to it, and these humans would not find it.

Had her caution worked?

"It's rusted shut; come on, I hear someone spotted them east of here," the other voice called.

Was it a ruse?

No.

The manbloods moved away, and her muscles slowly relaxed as her hearing strained, picking up nothing.

She removed her water bottle from her belt and soundlessly made her way to the halfling, lifting her head carefully and dripping water into her mouth. This time, she swallowed on her own, and it was a good sign.

"Wake, young halfling. We would fare better if I did not have to carry you," she whispered, but the creature did not react.

Twilight would soon fall, and they could slip away, but as she settled with her back against an ancient pillar, Derya confronted the undeniable truth.

Malekai, her brother, would by now have noticed her absence. The men at his command would have searched for her and found no trace.

Being the man he was, he would have sent his wife, Eritrea, to search her rooms, and the books and maps she so carefully hid inside the hollow space in her cupboard would have been discovered. Malekai wasn't a fool; he would know she slipped through the veil.

If she had found the oracle and learned something useful, her victorious return would have canceled out her disobedience, but with the seer most likely dead and her interference in the human world not having gone unnoticed, there would be no going back until she had found something to redeem herself.

The laws regarding the veil and passing into the human realm were clear. Any fae found guilty of such an act would be incarcerated and sentenced to death.

And even though royalty was not subject to the full extent of the law, she would be locked in the dungeons or a tower, never to see the light of day again. There was no greater punishment for a werewolf than being kept like an animal in a cage without ever running free in the forest again. Most quickly went insane and found ways to end their own suffering.

So, why did she foolishly offer up her entire future for this creature? Because werewolves were noble creatures with a damned hero complex.

Her shoulders slumped as the truth became undeniable. That moment of insanity had trapped her in the human realm. The manbloods may not know she was fae, but they would know there were two creatures from the tracks in the dirt.

If she were not her father's best second best tracker, and if not for the pepper in her pocket, they would not be safe. The hounds howled far off, yipping as they lost the scent, and a tiny bitter smile touched her lips.

***

She and Malekai were born twenty years apart. He was a man when she was a cub, and from the first moment she could remember, she lived in his shadow.

He sat upright at six months, walked at ten months, and received his first wooden sword at two. There was no milestone that he didn't hit far ahead of any other wolf, and then she came along.

As if it were not enough of a disappointment to her father that she was a girl, she was also the opposite of her brother. Everything took her a little longer. Physical things, anyway. She could read and write at each three, but coordination and weapon skills evaded her.

By age twelve, she knew she would never be among her father's best warriors, and although werewolves didn't value knowledge as highly as physical prowess, she accepted her brain would always outweigh her ability to keep her balance on a beam or throw a knife straight.

Even so, she worked twice as hard as anyone else to be half as good, but then she discovered that her tracking skills were superior to all but her brother, and at least this earned her some respect in her father's eyes.

"My daughter isn't as good at slaying our enemies, but at least she can find them," he always teased her. Although the backhanded compliment mortified her, it was better than seeing him look at her with such disappointment shadowing his eyes that it hurt her inside.

The halfling groaned, ripping her from her thoughts, and the shadows had sufficiently settled for them to risk moving.

***

If they could reach the prince's castle without being spotted, there would be no proof that they were ever in the city.

No one saw what happened to identify them, only finding the aftermath and drawing their own conclusions. The witnesses were dead, and the humans were looking for two culprits, assuming that at least one was fae. But those pointy ears would be proof enough to burn them both.

She wrapped a piece of cloth around the halfling's head and picked her up.

"Come on, we have to go," she didn't expect a reply and didn't get one as she bent her legs and jumped up through the hole in the roof, almost losing her balance.

Years of relentless exercise made her strong enough to shift her weight and hop down to the ground, landing with ease despite her burden.

She shifted her weight forward and flitted from shadow to shadow, her senses on high alert, not taking a step without first making sure she could proceed without being spotted, yet moving much faster than any manblood could while carrying something almost equal to its weight.

Every sound registered, every scent had her brain analyzing and reviewing, and sweat trickled down her back as she finally reached the outskirts of the sprawling town.

As it did every night just after sunset on their side of the veil as well, the fog rolled in from the sea for a couple of hours until the southwesterly wind stirred, dampening noise and altering the landscape, but her sense of direction kept her making her way steadily south.

She reached the wall just ahead of the rolling wall of white. It hadn't been guarded in a hundred years and was barely maintained.

The humans in this area lived and traded in peace, their fleet and army large enough to destroy any threat. No one would be stupid enough to attack them or would live long enough to regret it.

She hopped up to the first walkway, then the second, before landing as close to the empty guard tower wall as possible before jumping down.

Someone shouted inside the city, but by the time they had the gate open or reached the top of the walkway, she would be long gone.

Derya had to tuck and roll not to land too hard, and she jarred her passenger a little, but she blended into the wall's shadow, running along its length, and disappeared into the trees growing beside the river edging the town.

She could lose anyone trying to follow her by crossing the river.

***

The halfling stirred just as she reached the river, and Derya had only a moment to set her down before it fell to its knees and helplessly wretched.

Nothing much came out, and the sound carried, but with the fog surrounding them, the odds of any human following or finding them were low.

"Who are you?" It asked, quickly gaining control of itself.

"I am the only reason you are still alive," Derya said, scooping some water in the lid of her water bottle and handing it to the creature, who gratefully accepted it with shaking hands but wisely only took careful sips.

The halfling finally looked up at her, and she wondered if elves could see in the dark as werewolves could.

Their eyes met.

Yes, elves had night vision.

How curious.

"Why did you save me? How did you save, and how are we outside the city?"

A frown tugged at the halfling's dark blond brows.

"You are not human," she said, and Derya opened her mouth, but then she saw the slight glow of that rune.

Magic.

That's how this half-fae creature knew she wasn't human.

"I am Derya. I carried you, and we have to get you to your brother."

"I've never met another fae," the girl marveled. "I am Bailey. Ballandrine actually, but I hate it."

"You are no fae, halfling," Derya hadn't meant to say the words.

"Why would I expect the fae to be different?" she attempted to rise but couldn't.

Derya reached out to help her to her feet, but Bailey jerked her arm away.

"I will be fine now; return wherever you came from before you end up being burned with me."

"I'll take you to your brother and be on my way," Derya said stubbornly.

"He will offer you no reward."

"I simply wish to make sure my efforts to save you were not in vain before I move on."

"How did you get me over the wall?"

"I jumped."

"With me in your arms? What are you?"

"I am a werewolf."

The halfling's eyes became large as fear kicked in, but then reason and curiosity overpowered her natural instincts—a good sign.

"Aren't werewolves supposed to be monsters that decimate entire towns?"

"Just the turned. They don't usually fare well those first few years, which is why their creation was outlawed millennia ago. Anyways, you are far more dangerous than I am, whatever you are, elfling."

Bailey covered the rune on her hand, which slowly turned black like ink now that it was almost entirely healed.

"We need to leave now, and the sooner you stop being stubborn, the sooner you can be home, and no finger will be pointed at you."

"I can get us home, but I need to touch you, and it won't be pleasant because I am still very weak, and I'll need to borrow your strength."

Voices shouted into the night, a dog yipped, and without thinking about it, they glanced at each other.

Bailey extended her hand, and Derya touched it.

The night exploded into light, heat seared through her veins, and for a moment, her insides seemed to boil as she fell into darkness and, through it, back into light that almost ignited her skin.

Was this what dying felt like?