Feray

Feray

My body feels like it’s weighed down with lead, and my thoughts are sluggish, like trying to move through thick, suffocating sludge. Something isn’t right. I fight against the fog clouding my mind, and after what feels like an eternity, I finally pry my eyes open. A bright blue sky stretches overhead, and the chirping of birds fills the air. Why am I not in the cave? It’s so peaceful, so normal, but the weight pressing down on me reminds me that this isn’t right. The heaviness is Easton’s body draped over my wolf’s hips, his stillness making my heart lurch.

Fear gnaws at me as I curl into myself, nudging and licking his face with desperate whines. “Please, Easton, wake up.” My thoughts are a jumble, panic clawing at my insides. Slowly, he stirs. A groan escapes him as he lifts his head, blinking blearily before sitting up. Relief floods me, and I rise to my paws, shaking off the lingering tension.

I move to Torben, pressing my muzzle against his neck and nuzzling him awake. His eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a familiar warmth before he too sits up. I don’t stop trotting over to Diaval and Khal, waking them both with gentle nudges. They blink awake, confused but alive, and I can finally breathe again.

Once everyone is awake, I shift back to my human form, grateful that my clothing stayed intact. The air is warmer than I remember, and when I glance around, my breath catches in my throat. “Woah... Tor. We’re in the field you taught me to hunt in.” I spin around, taking in the familiar landscape, disbelief coloring my voice.

Torben stands, brushing dirt from his clothes. His brow furrows as he surveys the area. “How did we get here?”

Easton shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Perhaps it was the cavern we explored. Could’ve been some sort of port key.”

“Yeah, it smelled like magic,” I agree, frowning as the memory comes back to me. “Kind of like Revelin, to be honest.” As I speak, Khal and Diaval swap their winter gear for lighter clothing. The weight of unease settles over me. We are over four hundred plus miles from where we last were.

“Something wants us here,” Diaval says quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon where faint music drifts on the wind.

Torben’s arm slips around mine, his warmth grounding me. “Let’s stop at the cabin and restock before we go exploring. There’s no telling when whatever brought us here is going to pull us back. If it even does.”

I blink at him, thrown by the sudden logic. It’s not like Torben to talk about magic so sensibly. “What? I read and listen,” he says, catching my stare, his tone mildly offended. The cabin comes into view and I feel a little calmer about where we landed.

“Usually, you read Bears Illustrated and tool catalogs. Neither of which I’d classify as suitable reading material,” I tease, shaking my head as we move through the underbrush toward the cabin.

Diaval reaches the door first and swings it open, letting us in. We go to the kitchen and then the bathroom to freshen up. The cabin is just as I remember it, but it feels like a lifetime ago that we were last here. “I believe if my phone is telling the truth, the Samhain celebration should be in full swing tonight.” I check the screen, my mind whirling with the implications. Samhain—a time when the veil between worlds is thin. It’s always the time of year that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“We should go check in with Louie, see what’s been happening since we’ve been gone,” Diaval suggests, though I can hear the real reason in his voice. He’s hoping Louie’s heard from Dezi.

I finish swapping out battery packs and shove them into my backpack. My mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle. Why were we brought here? What’s waiting for us? One thing is clear—nothing happens by accident.

When everyone is ready, I take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand. Before leaving, we do one last check of the packs to ensure nothing essential is left behind. The weight of responsibility presses on me, but I push it aside for now. Diaval moves with his usual efficiency, grabbing a handful of frozen jerky sticks from the freezer and stuffing them into the outer pouch of his backpack.

I notice Easton quietly offering a bottle of water and a cured salami stick from our root cellar. He hands out more to everyone, his intent clear—catching up on lost protein is a priority. It’s the small things he does that remind me how much he worries about us, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

“Let’s head into town, find the Biergarten, and catch up with Louie to get some answers, shall we?” Diaval’s voice breaks the silence, and he throws open the door with a dramatic flourish, motioning for us to leave. His energy is contagious, but there’s an undercurrent of tension—like we’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Khal loops his arm with mine as we step outside, his warmth grounding me. “Which way do you usually take to the center of town, precious?” he asks, his voice gentle, his curiosity genuine.

A smile tugs at my lips as I tug him toward the small stream. “This way,” I say, guiding him toward the footbridge Torben built after discovering I used to jump across the stream to get to town. The memory warms me, but the heat of the day clashes with the chill in my chest. “It’s too warm…” I mutter, stripping down to my tee shirt. Khal takes my sweatshirt without a word, shoving it into his bag for me. I’m left in a tee with ‘Fangs for the memories’ across the front, a memento from the bar. The Cocktails and Screams logo on the sleeves feel like a connection to somewhere I feel safe.

Our boots clunk over the boards of the bridge, the sound oddly comforting. I peer over the edge, watching the water flow beneath us, the plants swaying with the current. The gentle rush of the stream is soothing, almost hypnotic, a stark contrast to the buzz of the town we’re heading towards.

The path shifts from sand to rocks, the crunch beneath our feet snapping me out of my thoughts. Easton’s voice cuts through the quiet. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence we ended up here now.” He’s looking at the sky, then at me, his expression serious.

“What makes you say that?” I ask, curiosity piqued as I finish the last chunk of salami. His tone has me on edge—he usually has all the answers.

“Well, for one, it’s a major witch holiday, isn’t it?” He glances at each of us, and we nod in agreement. “What if there’s something going on that we need to know about?” His words hang in the air, and for once, it feels like he’s searching for answers as much as we are.

“I’d rather wait until we find Louie before guessing why we’re here,” I reply, shrugging off the unease settling in my chest. Maybe just an accident, and we’ll return to where we were. “I mean, it would be pretty on-brand for the way my life has gone until you guys came into it.” Memories stir, unbidden, of all the hard times Fi and I endured alone scraping by, fighting to keep ourselves fed, clothed, and in school. Even now, the echoes of those days cling to me.

Torben and I pick blueberries as the hill gets steeper, eating them as we go along. The others watch us curiously as I shake my head, laughing to myself. The sun is warm on my back as we make our way up the hill, my hands stained with the juice of freshly picked blueberries. I pop another one into my mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness as the incline grows steeper beneath our feet. It’s a minor comfort in these uncertain times. The others watch us, their gazes curious, probably wondering why we’re eating yet again. I shake my head, a quiet laugh escaping me. Lately, it feels like all I do is eat, travel, and sleep. It’s a mindless routine that keeps me grounded through everything. But I can’t ignore the gnawing anxiety that creeps in whenever I think about what lies ahead. The battles that are waiting for us when we return. I wish I could avoid them, but I know it’s impossible. I hate violence, but my wolf reminds me again and again that it’s the way of the pack. The strong survive, and the weak perish. Nature’s cruel design to ensure only the best genes endure.

I pause about twenty yards from the top of the hill, feeling a prickle of unease that pulls me down a narrow path to the left. I think I hear the voices of people I would rather avoid. Diaval’s shadow flickers beside me, his voice a whisper in my ear, cautious and low. “Why the sudden change in direction, my eternal?”

He’s careful with his words, not sure who else might be listening. I give a small shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but there’s tension coiled tight in my chest. “I heard some of those witches who used to bother me. I don’t think getting roasted by witch fire would be a good idea right now.”

I prepare to move forward, but Torben steps in front of me, his presence solid and reassuring. His eyes, always so sharp and observant, soften as he speaks. “You have us now. The witches would think twice before messing with you.” Before I can respond, he presses his lips to my temple, his warmth seeping into me as he pulls me into a brief embrace. I melt into him, feeling the weight of my worries lift, if only for a moment. In his arms, the world feels less harsh, less daunting. For a heartbeat, everything is okay.

Diaval’s hand lands gently on my shoulder just as Torben releases me, and his familiar, mischievous smile warms the lingering tension in my chest. “I could always roast them for you if you desire? Or sparky could do it?” He suggests with a casual nod toward Easton, as if having a phoenix in our ranks is the most common thing in the world.

Khal’s playful grin spreads across his face as he chimes in, “I could always turn them to stone and blame my twin?” His light-hearted offer tugs a genuine laugh from me, easing the tight coil of stress that’s been sitting in my gut.

“As much as your twin rankles me, he’s not horrible, and Fi cares about him, so let’s not make him the fall guy today, okay?” I say, reaching out to squeeze Khal’s hand in gratitude. His warmth seeps into my fingers, grounding me as I force my gaze back to the path ahead. The wind shifts, carrying the savory scent of food to my nose, and my stomach grumbles in response.

A burst of energy surges through me as I grab Khal’s arm, a grin spreading wide across my face. “I smell chicken kabobs!” I shout, the thought of food lifting my spirits. Without waiting for a response, I take off running down the path, laughter bubbling up in my throat as I drag Khal behind me, our feet pounding against the earth.

“Wait up, you two!” Torben’s voice echoes behind us, laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Damn it, Bedia. Slow down!” Diaval screams, his frustration clear, but the sound of his voice only makes me laugh harder.

The noise of the band playing in the distance grows louder, drowning out the voices behind me, but I don’t care. For this moment, the weight of my responsibilities fades, leaving only the joy of running with my mate, the scent of food, and the laughter of those I care about.

We burst out of the woods just a little north of where the chicken kabobs are grilling, and I can’t help the broad smile that spreads across my face. Call it what you want, but I absolutely love those kabobs. They’re always the best during celebrations. The charred flavor and spices blend delightfully. There’s nothing like it anywhere.

Khal steps forward, ordering enough for the entire family. When everyone catches up, we pass them around, two large kabobs each—one steak, one chicken. The perfect balance of protein for us, fueling both bodies and lifting our spirits. I glance around the setup, my eyes catching the top of the ornate sign Dezi had made for the biergarten, just peeking above the crowd.

The courtyard’s packed, too many bodies in the way to see who’s running it. If it’s Mo, well, I might have some fun. Maybe I’ll test out that mind control trick Khal taught me—make him do the funky chicken dance on a tabletop and record the moment. The thought alone makes me chuckle inwardly.

“There’s a wicked glimmer in your eye, my eternal. What naughty thought crossed your beautiful mind?” Diaval’s voice, low and smoky, sends a shiver through me. His tone alone is enough to make me consider dragging him back to the cabin and forgetting everything else.

Feigning innocence, I glance up at him. “Oh, just thinking about testing the mind control thingy on Mo if he’s at the biergarten. Maybe make him do the funky chicken dance on the tables.” I flap my arms like chicken wings to illustrate my point.

Diaval raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “That would be comical.”

Khal, always the little devil, chimes in, “It’s harmless and good practice for Precious.” His grin is all mischief. “I fully endorse this idea.”

“Not sure it’s helpful to do it in such a large public place,” Easton comments, ever the voice of reason, as he finishes his second kabob.

“They’ll blame me for it. Precious will stay innocent,” Khal says, draping an arm over my shoulder, his gaze challenging the others to argue.

The wind shifts, and I pause, nose twitching as I catch a scent. I sniff again, turning toward the biergarten. Something about what I smelled feels… off. “That’s odd…” I murmur, furrowing my brows as I focus on the scent.

“What’s odd?” Torben asks, moving to my other side, his presence grounding me.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes at myself. “I thought I smelled Tiernan’s scent.” Dismissing it as a dream, I turn my attention back to the group, but the feeling lingers, a whisper in the back of my mind that refuses to fade. There’s no way they’re here. Fi would have called me when they returned from Faerie.