"No! That's pathetic. Do it again, Derek."
I sat on the weathered rail of the training yard fence, swinging my feet and working through a crisp apple. The morning had been a strange one, with hushed corridors and no sign of the Lycan King at breakfast. Which left me with nothing better to do than watch his Lords beat the arrogance out of each other.
Steel rang in the cool air, Derek and Callum clashing in a dance of brute force and precision. William and Tristan stood off to the side, tossing in critiques like old hens squabbling over whose rooster was better.
I watched closely. I'd never been allowed to wield a sword growing up. Training with my siblings was strictly bare hands and small blades for me. Apparently, larger lengths of steel wasn't something I could be trusted with.
Derek's gaze kept drifting my way. The next time it did, his sword went spinning from his grip. He cursed, the sound sharp as the bite of morning frost.
"Why is the Fox here? Shouldn't you be lurking in a shadowed corner, waiting to stick a knife in someone's ribs?"
I bit into my apple, slow and deliberate. "Am I too distracting, My Lord, or are you just a clumsy fool this morning?"
Laughter rippled across the yard. Derek flushed deep crimson, the color climbing his neck. He stomped over, eyes flashing.
"If you're going to sit in my training yard, let's see you train. Unless…" His gaze raked me with deliberate insult. "…you're only useful on your back."
The words were a slap, hot and stinging. Rage bloomed too fast for me to choke down. My hands trembled as I slid from the fence, knees buckling as if my bones had forgotten how to hold me.
"Dammit, girl." Derek loomed over me, clearly startled. "I was just baiting you. No need to get dramatic."
The world lurched. My vision fractured. Then with a soft, sickening pop, I was drowning in the folds of my dress. Instinct took over. I bolted free with a sharp yip of surprise, my paws scrabbling on the packed dirt.
"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" Tristan appeared far too close, his grin too sharp. I darted back, fur bristling along my spine, ears flattening tight against my skull.
"If you wanted to stretch your legs in that form, you could've just said." He stripped his shirt in one smooth motion. I turned my head sharply away.
"What in the hell are you doing?" Derek barked.
"Going for a run." Tristan said easily. "Clearly she needs it."
"She's a fox, Tristan. Do you think the servants are going to overlook a fox running with the King's wolves?"
I chattered sharply, the sound full of teeth.
Callum chuckled. "I don't think she likes your tone, Derek."
Then came the pop-snap of bone and tendon. I turned toward the sound. Four wolves stood where the Lords had been, massive and towering. Even Derek had shifted.
I lifted my muzzle, breathing them in, sorting scent from scent until I found him. Black as midnight, his eyes storm-dark. Wild, electric, dangerous. Derek.
I chuffed once and, because I could, kicked a spray of dirt at him with my hind paws.
The growl was my only warning before my scruff was seized in powerful jaws. My paws dangled, air rushing past as the black wolf carried me toward the treeline. I twisted, furious, but his grip held.
The forest swallowed us quickly. Ancient trees hunched together, their shadows spilling over tangles of grass and root. Derek dropped me. I hit the loam with a furious squeal, fur puffing out in indignation. Carry me like a kit, would he?
I crouched, tail lashing, then bolted into the underbrush. A howl rose behind me, rolling through the trees like thunder. So this was the game. Fine.
I ran. Twisting between trunks, over rotting logs, shoving through bramble. The crash of pursuit only made me push harder. A ribbon of water flashed ahead, and without thinking, I dove. The shock of cold burned down to my bones.
I surfaced, ears swiveling. Too quiet. I paddled downstream, keeping low, letting the current carry me. Still, I could feel their eyes on me, steady and assessing. I lunged for the far bank, shaking out the water before darting deeper into the woods.
Thorns snagged my fur. The copper tang of blood hit my nose, faint but mine. I nosed along the ground until I found it. A burrow. Old. Abandoned. Perfect.
I wriggled inside, damp earth pressing in. It opened wider past the entrance, just enough for me to twist and settle. My breath came fast, steam curling from my muzzle. The longer I stayed in my fox skin, the more the human world fell away. The instincts dulled everything else. And I liked it.
Just as I settled in to wait, I heard them. But not with my ears.
Where is she? She can't have gone far.
It took a heartbeat too long for me to realize they were in my head.
Derek, circle back to the creek. Callum, sweep west. William and I'll take east. Tomas will have our hides if we lose her.
Mind-speak? My mother had never mentioned it. None of the shifters I knew had it. Wasn't it just a Lycan trait? If so, why could I hear them?
A puff of hot breath ghosted across the burrow entrance. A massive paw swiped in.
Gotcha.
I snapped at the paw, catching fur between my teeth. The wolf huffed and pulled back. I slithered out, shaking the dirt from my coat, and flicked my tail at him.
Found me. Try again.
The scream of challenge that left my throat was pure fox. I tore off into the brush.
A beat of stunned silence filtered through my mind. I could feel their shock.
Did… did she just speak?
Yes. Why?
Because no shifter has ever spoken in our link before, Derek's voice growled. What exactly are you, little Fox?