A twig snaps somewhere nearby.
The small hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I glance around. I see nothing, but that doesn't mean anything at all. It could be one of the deer, who camouflage well, or one of the snakes, climbing up a tree for…snake business. I actually don't know what snakes do, now that I think of it. I look for a face, or horns, or something that will indicate to me who or what is approaching, but I see nothing but greenery. Frowning, I turn around again to head back—
—and hear growling.
Growling coming from a very, very large creature. My skin prickles with fear, and I know something's wrong. There are wolves at camp—there have been wolves at camp for days. Huge ones, with thick, shaggy fur and pointed ears. They're ferocious and terrifying looking, but the ones at camp ignore me. As do the bears, the lions, and even the horrible worm-creatures with multiple heads that Kassam calls dustwyrms. No one growls at me.
So…now I have a problem.
I pat my hands on my muddy, stiff jeans, but I've got no weapon with me. I haven't needed one, and now I'm regretting that bitterly. My Styx T-shirt won't do anything for me, either, but I'm wearing my belt. Slowly, I unbuckle it and pull it free from the loops. "Who's out there?"
More growling. It sounds deep and ominous and my heart races with terror.
Something moves up ahead. I turn, and watch, terrified, as a gargantuan wolf of midnight black melts out of the shadows and takes a step toward me. The eyes are a glowing, feral yellow. He's enormous, as big as the other wolves that make up part of Kassam's army, but where those just seem wild, this one seems…sinister. Like night and anger personified. He takes a step forward, baring white teeth, and I catch a glint of gold against his black nose.
He keeps growling, even as he prowls toward me.
I take a step backward, clutching my belt against my chest. "In case you can't smell it, I'm Kassam's anchor," I call out. "Maybe you've forgotten, but you're not supposed to attack me. It's cool. I won't hold a grudge."
The wolf's lips curl back, the snarl growing deeper.
Another snarl picks up behind me.
Then to the side.
I look over to my left and then to my right as more of those creepy, shadowy wolves appear, stalking toward me. Each one is midnight black, and as I gasp and take another step backward, I notice the one closest to me has a ring in his nose also. They all do. "If you guys are someone's pets, you should know—"
One lunges for me before I can finish my sentence.
I scream. Using my belt as a whip, I strike the closest wolf across the nose. Another one lunges at me, but there's no time for me to strike it. It shoves me into the dirt and my chin hits a root. I sprawl on my stomach, the wind knocked out of me. Dimly, I'm aware that I'm about to die, and I think of Kassam. He's going to be so upset…
Jaws latch around my arm, and the wolf shakes it wildly. My belt goes flying, and I cry out in pain.
A heavy weight sprawls on top of me and I realize another one of the wolves is lying over me. He growls and I go still, terrified. But the other wolf drops my arm and I snatch it under my body protectively. My skin is torn to shreds and hurts like hell, and I brace myself, eyes closed and face scrunched up, as I wait for the end.
Nothing attacks me. There's an animalistic snort, almost disgusted, and then teeth scrape against my back. I freeze. In the next moment, the wolf hauls me up by my T-shirt, the collar chokingly tight, and drags me.
Oh. Clutching my wounded arm, I remain limp, watching as the others file in next to the leader—the one that has me—and move at his side. "Hey," I try again, since they don't seem to be attacking me. One of the wolves walking close by has that glint of gold in his nose, and the sight of it reminds me that they might be someone's pets. "Good doggy. Put me down?"
The wolves ignore me. If they're someone's pet, they're not friendly pets.
Okay then, time for a new plan. The wolf dragging me is easily the size of a Clydesdale, so I suspect he can drag my ass all over this forest without getting tired. Something tells me he's not going to stop, either. I clutch my bleeding arm, and when the collar of my T-shirt cuts into my neck, it gives me an idea.
I go limp, throwing my arms up. In the next moment, I slide out of my overstretched T-shirt and tumble onto the ground. The moment I hit dirt, I scramble to my feet, grabbing the nearest plant to brace myself. I run—