Annie Hayden's Arc

Chapter 10 of 27

Annie woke to a low growl. The fox stood stiff by the hearth, ears flat, tail crackling. It stared at the window and snarled at the dark. Annie sat up. The room was warm, but her breath fogged the glass. Something moved outside, past the pane, on the hill where she was meant to sleep. Kaelen had warned her. Her warmth leaked into the night, and it drew hunters. Two yellow eyes lit the window. A sleek black shape pressed close, its back shimmering like broken glass. The panther. It had followed her scent from the mountain. Annie grabbed her wand off the chair. The fox planted itself between her and the window, growling louder. The panther struck the glass. It broke inward, shards spraying across the floor. The cold rushed in. The beast crouched on the sill, muscles bunched to leap. Annie pointed the wand and reached for the fox's fire. She pulled too hard. The thread she was taught to sip became a flood. Flame roared up the wand and jumped its bounds. It licked back down her wrist and climbed her forearm. She screamed. The fire seared her skin from wrist to elbow, far worse than the small burn she had known before. But the blast hit the panther. It flinched and slid off the sill, snarling. The door banged open. Kaelen rushed in, dark coat half-fastened, the blue crystal bright on his brow. He took one look at the panther crouched below the window and thrust out his hand. Frost tore from his fingers. Ice slammed the beast against the stone wall and pinned it there. The panther thrashed, then twisted free and dropped through the broken window into the night. Its glass-backed shape vanished down the hill. Kaelen turned. His eyes went to the wand, then to her arm. Annie clutched it to her chest. The skin was red and blistered, the sleeve of her green dress burned away to the elbow. The fox pressed against her leg, whining. "You pulled too much," Kaelen said. He crossed to her fast and took her wrist, careful and gentle. His breath hissed through his teeth. "This is deep." He pressed his cool palm just above the burn. Frost misted from his skin and settled over the wound. The heat eased. Annie's shaking slowed. "It followed me," she said. "My warmth. You were right." "I was." He did not gloat. He studied the burn, jaw tight. "Cold will hold the pain, but this needs more than I can give. My father will know. Or the mage in the valley." He looked at the wand still clenched in her good hand. "You reached for power you cannot yet hold. It nearly cost your arm." Annie stared at the raw, blistered skin. The panther was gone, but it would come again while she still glowed in the dark. And now she could not lift the wand without pain.