by Kayla Wolf
The farmhouse was silent when he burst through the trees—but he realized with a sick jolt that there was no time to go in. The coyotes had given chase, fanning out through the trees behind him, and he knew that if he ran into the house, they’d come too. He couldn’t risk Quinn or Charles being surprised in their beds—in their human shapes they’d be vulnerable, and he had no idea what kind of weapons these coyotes were carrying. He turned amid the vegetable gardens that stood outside the farmhouse, counted at least a dozen sets of yellow eyes gleaming at him through the trees. The coyotes had fanned out, circled him. He’d led them right to the farmhouse. Well—maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, there was space here.
And space was exactly what a dragon needed.
The change rushed over him like a dizzy spell. He’d never felt the transformation take him so quickly—but then again, he’d never transformed with this much adrenalin coursing through his system. Was this how his ancestors had felt, he wondered as his wings spread and his body grew and changed, scales rapidly covering his flesh as he felt his neck extend and warp. He was barely fully dragon before he roared, extending his neck and uttering the loudest, most challenging cry he could. He was counting on the idea that most of these coyotes wouldn’t have seen a dragon before—maybe there was an edge of fear to be gotten by intimidating them. A quick glance behind him showed the farmhouse lights going on. Good—Quinn and Charles were awake.
But the coyotes were wasting no time. He recoiled as one leapt at him, snapping and growling—most of them had changed shape, too, and rushed straight in to attack. He reared back on his hind legs, wings beating hard to give him balance as he tried to find equilibrium on two legs. It had the benefit of clearing his talons, and he slashed out at the circling coyotes, sending them skittering back away from him. He hissed, his green eyes narrowing—in this form he had a wider field of vision as his eyes were set on either side of his head, not directly in the center, and he could see that there were more glinting eyes in the trees. Quickly, the coyotes learned not to get too close—his talons made short work of several of them, their sharp edges leaving deep wounds as he slashed through the air. His wings, too, were formidable, knocking coyotes back left and right.
And to his surprise, several of the coyotes had stayed in their human shapes. They were in the trees, too, but to his surprise, they were climbing them. They had weapons in hand, he realized—stones were flying out of the trees, unerringly close to his head and his eyes, and he roared in frustration, twisting his head away as a stone came unsettlingly close to hitting him in the eye socket. He had no way of responding, no way of returning fire at this range. And it was a coordinated attack—even as the stone missed, three coyotes were diving at his underbelly, delivering sharp bites to the softer scales there while he was distracted by the attack from the trees. The stones continued to fly at him, hitting his wings—he roared in anger. That was a danger—and a clever tactic. All it would take would be a puncture wound or two, and his ability to get airborne would be compromised.
More coyotes, flooding out of the trees. There had to be at least forty at this point, and the group was getting bigger by the second. Was this one pack, he wondered, staring around at them in shock? They were splitting off into smaller groups, circling around him, flanking him—and his eyes widened in alarm as he spied a few stealing towards the farmhouse. Of course, he thought grimly. Caleb would have advised them that there were dragons sleeping in the house, in their vulnerable human shapes. Well, they hadn’t reckoned on him. He turned, moving quickly across the open area, wincing a little as he trampled the vegetable gardens. He’d have to apologize to Charles later. If he got the opportunity. Coyotes tried to get in his way, to obstruct him, and he lashed out with his talons and his tail, sending as many as he could flying. They hoped to pin him down, to keep him separate from his allies. Well, they’d have to do better than that.
David flicked a coyote away from the door with a talon, sending the creature flying. Inside, to his relief, he saw Charles and Quinn, running towards the sliding patio doors, their faces set. He turned to give them room to transform, sweeping another few coyotes along with him. The little wolf-like creatures were small, but he knew that six or so could take down and seriously injure a human (or a human-shaped dragon) if given the opportunity. And he wasn’t going to give them the opportunity.
But turning his back on them had given them a chance to gather, and as he turned, he fought to hold down his surprise—and his worry. There were over a hundred of them now—stones were still flying from the trees around the vegetable garden, and as he moved he felt a handful of coyotes leaping onto his body, their paws scrabbling for purchase. He thrashed, roaring his displeasure, but the damage was done—he felt sharp pain through his wing joints, realized that a few of them had gotten enough purchase to dig their teeth into the tissue of his wings. There were no scales on dragon wings—the leathery material was excellent for flight, but not well guarded. They’d found his weak point, and he could already feel blood beginning to trickle down.
Well, two could play at that game. Roaring, he lashed out with his talons, running into the thickest concentration of coyotes in the hopes of putting pressure on their ranks. Behind him, he could hear Charles and Quinn transforming, too, heard their draconic voices raised in challenge. That felt good. Three of them might stand a chance… but as he looked around at the enemy army, he could feel his heart pounding sickly. There were just so many of them… and God, they were quick. Even as he lashed out at the crowds, it felt like they evaporated out of his way, dodging and ducking then resurging to where they’d been, as though his claws had passed right through them. He was knocking them down here and there—they weren’t invulnerable—but each one he hit seemed to be replaced by three more.
David! He heard Quinn’s voice, straight into his mind. It felt so good to hear her he almost wept. Watch your back—
Pain split through his wings, and he roared, twisting his neck around to see three coyotes on his back, chewing furiously on his wing sails. This time, he felt the wing sail puncture and give way, and he roared in fury as blood splashed down his scales. And with an instinct that was probably very stupid, he dropped and rolled, trying to crush the coyotes that had done him such damage. They leapt free easily, but the instant he hit the ground, a dozen were on top of him, biting and clawing at every bit of exposed flesh. Only his long, sinuous neck kept his head and face clear of their swarming—and even then, coyotes leapt and snapped at him. This close he could feel their anger, their rage, their determination to kill him by all means necessary—and he felt real fear hit him in the chest for the first time. Was this how so many of his ancestors had fallen to wolf packs—physically pinned down, overwhelmed by numbers? Behind him, Charles and Quinn were fighting too, and he dragged himself back to his feet with some difficulty, shaking off the coyotes as best as he could. But he could feel the amount of damage he’d taken in that one injudicious movement.
Could he do this? Or was this where he died—in the middle of the desert, failing to protect the woman he loved?
Just as the fear was setting in, he heard something strange. Something like rushing wind and footsteps. And though most of his focus was on the coyotes that were now all around him, threatening to take him down, he had enough peripheral awareness to sense that the stars were being blotted out above him.
And as he looked up, a sense of relief swept over him, as powerful as a tidal wave. There, her wings spread and her blue eyes gleaming, was Amara in all her glory. The moon gleamed behind her head as she beat her wings hard, hovering above the battle like something out of a movie. He squinted up at her, sensed the coyotes around him recoiling from this new threat, and grinned. There, on her neck, he recognized Luke in his human shape, waving furiously down at them. And clutched in her talons were a wolf and a panther.
Reinforcements! He called out to Charles and Quinn, not wanting them to be worried by the sudden appearance of these strangers. Bu
t before he could say anything else, Amara opened her talons. Suddenly, there was a wolf and a panther among the coyotes. Amara winged her way a little closer to the ground, and David watched in awe as Luke leapt from her neck with all the casual confidence of a man leaping off the edge of a pool into the deep end. By the time he landed among the coyotes, he was a ten-foot tall bear, hundreds of pounds of muscle and gleaming dark eyes. Reinvigorated by the reinforcements, David pressed forward against the coyotes, his jaws snapping and talons flashing as he fought.
The tide of the battle was turning. Quinn and Charles surged forward to close the line, fighting at the side of these seasoned warriors—before long Amara landed, too, her wings and talons quick and sure as they dealt out considerable damage to the enemies. And then, to David’s surprise, something very disconcerting happened. It was as though a window opened in his field of vision, showing him what he quickly recognized as a top-down view of the garden. He blinked down at it, disconcerted—and realized with a shock that there was a coyote running along the path towards the lake.
The stone, he realized. The artefact. This coyote was trying to steal it in the midst of all the chaos. He roared his anger, leaping into the air—but with the first downstroke of his wings, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. The coyotes had done too much damage—he crashed back to the ground again, his tattered wings bleeding freely. Gritting his teeth, he ran through the line of coyotes, heedless of the damage he took—or of Quinn’s voice, calling after him. High in the air, he heard the screech of a hawk—somehow, he knew it was Amara’s mate Beckett, sharing his bird’s eye view of the situation.
His injuries didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he stop that coyote from stealing the stone. He shifted forms as he reached the trees, staggering a little on two legs but regaining his balance and running. There was blood in his eyes, he realized dizzily. More of his wounds had transferred over to his human shape than he’d thought.
Never mind. No time for that. Only time to stop the coyote. He ran hard, knowing he was about to catch him, knowing he was close to the lake—
“It’s you.”
He screeched to a halt as he burst through the trees, feeling a pair of familiar yellow eyes land on him as a voice cut through the night.
”Caleb,” he said levelly, trying discretely to catch his breath. “So you came back.”
”What will it take to get you vermin out of here?” Caleb said angrily. David took a few steps towards him, realizing as he did that the coyote was injured. He was favoring one leg, and there was blood on his clothing.
”It’s not too late to stop this,” he said, trying to reach the coyote. Up this close, it was hard to tell which emotion was stronger on Caleb’s face—anger or fear. “Tell your people to surrender—tell them—“
”No,” Caleb snarled. “It’s clear that the only language you people will listen to is violence. Look what you’ve done to this place. None of this should be growing here. None of it. Do you have any idea—“ The coyote took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to find the stone, and I’m going to destroy it. Now get out of my way.”
It was an empty threat, David realized simply. Caleb was cradling his arm to his side—a dislocated shoulder, if not an outright break, and when David edged closer, he could see that the coyote’s leg supported hardly any of his weight. And what was more—he took a quick look through Beckett’s eyes—the battle was ending. With Amara’s reinforcements, the brunt of the assault had been broken. The coyotes were retreating, streaming back towards the gates, fleeing over the walls, many of them carrying their wounded with them. Caleb knew it too. And when David looked into his face, he realized that the coyote had no intention of getting out of here alive.
”No,” he said quickly, moving forward as Caleb turned as if to dive into the lake. David grabbed him in his arms, holding him back—Caleb struggled weakly in his arms, cursing, but his wounds were worse than David had estimated. He sagged alarmingly in his arms, muttering dire threats as he lapsed into unconsciousness. David lay him on the sand, careful of his injuries. He’d expected to feel more satisfaction to have finally defeated the coyote, his rival—but looking down at him, all he could muster was pity.
And pain. Pain was a feature, too. David found himself swaying alarmingly on his feet, blinking blood out of his eyes. The adrenalin, the shock, the injuries—all of it seemed to lurch inwards all of a sudden. And before he knew it, he was down on his knees and fighting for consciousness… a fight he seemed destined to lose.
His last thought as he dropped, unconscious, to the lake shore beside his defeated foe, was that he hoped Quinn was okay.
Chapter 16 – Quinn
Quinn wasn’t quite sure when the tide of the battle changed. All she knew was that she went from being fast asleep, to surrounded by coyotes who seemed determined to kill her and her family. And for a few minutes there, she was convinced they were going to do it. She’d never felt so powerless in her dragon form as she did the moment that David dropped to the ground and was swarmed by coyotes. But like a miracle from above, another dragon swept in—a familiar-looking dragon with bright blue eyes and the same iridescent scales as her, and her father, and David. She’d brought backup, on her back and in her talons, and before too long the coyotes had been turned back, carrying their wounded with them as they fled back towards the garden gates.
Quinn had seen David run into the garden, towards the lake, and she had watched him go with alarm—but there had been too many coyotes still trying to attack the house for her to follow him. She needed to stay there, needed to protect her father, to protect the wolf, the bear, and the panther who were fighting on their side. She’d never met any of them before, but by the time the battle was over, she felt like they were close friends. As the coyotes turned tail and fled into the trees, she lowered her wings, breathing hard, taking stock of her injuries. A few bites here and there, a little blood on her wings and on her underbelly—but overall, she was mostly unharmed. David had taken the brunt of the coyote’s attack, she thought grimly—he’d kept them safe by taking most of the damage himself. Her father was the same, though there was a hole punched clear through one of his wings, and she hissed a little when she saw the starlight shining through.
It’ll heal, Quinn. I’ve had worse, his voice came through, and she was surprised by how calm he sounded. Just how many battles had he been in?
Before long, the five of them were in their human shapes again. Amara, it turned out, was a beautiful woman with bright blue eyes who came half-running to pull her into a hug. Behind her, three rather striking men stood waiting for their introductions.
”You must be Queen Amara,” Charles said. Quinn realized with a dizzy laugh that they were both still wearing their pajamas. “David told us you were coming. Thank you so much for your help.”
”David came to our rescue once,” Amara said, smiling. “It was the least we could do to return the favor. This is Luke, Cole, and Tobiah—Beckett’s still up there,” she added, glancing up into the sky. Sure enough, Quinn could see a hawk wheeling over the abandoned battlefield—he uttered a cry as his name was spoken and Amara laughed.
Charles spoke, his voice low. “Where’s David?”
Amara stared into the sky for a moment. “He’s by the lake, Beckett says,” she frowned. “He’s with a coyote? There’s a lot of blood…”
And then Quinn was off running, despite her weary, aching body, despite the buzzing aftermath of adrenalin, despite her exhaustion, despite everything David had done. She couldn’t think, couldn’t argue with herself, couldn’t talk herself out of going to him. All she knew was that she needed to see him, needed to make sure he was still alive, that she wasn’t too late. He’d fought for her… he’d all but sacrificed himself for her safety. And suddenly, her anger with him, her resentment at him for who his father was… it all felt so stupid. So insignificant. He’d been bleeding so heavily when he went, she thought dizzily as she ran. What if—what i
f—
And as she broke out onto the shore of the lake, it felt like all her worst fears had been confirmed at once. There he lay, a crumpled outline on the dark shores of the lake—and beside him, also curled in a broken little ball, a coyote. She realized as she moved closer that it was Caleb, the coyote who’d come to visit with them, the one who she’d caught digging in the now-destroyed vegetable garden… God, it all felt so long ago. She couldn’t care about him. She could only care about David—she dropped to her knees, pulled him into her lap, heedless of the blood that stained her pajama pants. He was still breathing, she realized with a dizzy thrill of relief—but he was unconscious, his breathing shallow and his body battered. She couldn’t tell how serious the wounds were, not in the dark—she had no medical expertise, and the panic in her chest was making it hard to think straight. She cradled him in her arms, trying to imbue his body with some of her warmth on the off chance that that would help, feeling tears drip from her face onto his motionless body.
”David,” she whispered, and his name felt like a prayer in her mouth. “David, you idiot, please don’t be dead, please don’t die. Stay here. You have to stay here and get better, you have to wake up, you have to talk to me again, I have to tell you—” She felt her whole body shuddering with sobs, forced them down. Who knew how long she had to get this out? Who knew if his life was slipping away from him? “I have to tell you I love you,” she said, her voice cracking. “I have to tell you I’m sorry, and that I was stupid, and that I should never have shut you out like that—you’re not your father, you’re better than your father, I was stubborn and wrong, and it wasn’t your fault, none of it was your fault, you didn’t lie to me on purpose, I—I—just come back, alright? I’ll do anything if you just—come back.”
