18

Snarling, the graphite wolf steadied himself and faced me, chest heaving. Dad’s blood covered his snout.

There aren’t any witches, Samuel answered.

Hot rage blasted through me, and something inside me snapped. Power rolled through my body, my magic sizzled, and I moved faster than ever before. I slammed into the enemy wolf, who flew backward into the nearest larch tree. His body thudded into it, his head cracking against the trunk, and he crumpled to the ground. I waited to make sure he didn’t get up.

When he didn’t move, I hurried to Dad, making sure to face the fighting so no one could attack my back.

Blood poured from Dad’s neck, and his eyes were wide. He tried to use his paws to put pressure on his neck, but they weren’t like hands. Hell, even if they had been hands, they wouldn’t have done any good.

How bad is it? Dad linked as he kept trying to apply pressure to the wound.

This would have been a good fucking time to be able to lie, but the stench would give me away. Not good. I