Arron Liken's Arc

Chapter 2 of 11

Arron followed the river against its current for two days. The water ran clear over smooth stones, curling white around each rock. He kept to the bank and watched the trees. The seer's warning stayed with him. Somewhere ahead walked a hunter with a blade made to kill his kind. Arron meant to reach the valley first. He meant to arrive alive. On the second evening, hunger slowed him. A cluster of round bushes grew near the water, heavy with red and dark berries. He knelt and ate. Then a scent cut through the cold air. Oiled steel. Sweat. A man, close. Arron dropped low behind the bushes. A figure stepped out along the bank. Broad shoulders. A long coat. At his hip hung a saber, and wolves ran carved along its blade. This was the hunter Elizabeth had seen. Victor Crowe moved without hurry, eyes sweeping the ground for tracks. "I smell dog," Victor said. He did not shout. He spoke like a man certain of his work. "Come out. It goes easier that way." Arron's heart hammered. As a man, he had no claws. The wolf was faster, stronger. But the blade was forged to kill the wolf. One wrong shape could end him. He held still and breathed slow. Victor drew the saber. The carved wolves caught the last light. He stepped toward the bushes, blade low, patient. A growl rolled out of the dusk behind him. Not Arron's. Another wolf slid from the shadows across the river. Its coat was black, so dark it seemed to drink the light. Smoke curled off its shoulders. It fixed pale eyes on the hunter and bared its teeth. Victor turned toward the new threat. "There you are." Arron saw his one chance. He stayed human and ran. He crashed through the brush and into the shallows, driving upstream against the current. Cold water dragged at his legs. Behind him, the black wolf snarled, and Victor cursed and swung. Steel rang off a stone. Arron did not look back. He climbed the far bank and vanished among the trees, still a man, still whole. He ran until his lungs burned, then stopped and listened. No footsteps. No blade. The shadow wolf had bought him his escape, then melted back into the dark. Arron pressed a hand to a tree and dragged in air. He had lived. But he had shown Victor nothing, kept the wolf hidden, given the hunter no wound to slow him. Victor still walked the same path north, toward the same valley, toward the mate the goddess had promised. Now the hunter knew a werewolf ran ahead of him. He would follow. Arron pushed off the tree and climbed on through the black pines, faster now, a race started that he could not stop.