24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tovi

B lood.

Soaked into clothes. Splattered across the pine needles of the forest floor. Dry and crusted in Tovi’s nail beds.

Red. Red. Red.

The haze of hunger washed through her, waves of monstrous instinct pulling her from the shores of rational thought.

Tovi needed to feed.

She’d gone too long without feeding, so long Tovi didn’t recall the last time blood crossed her lips. Three damning days. That’s all she ever had before hunger gnawed at her. And she’d gone over. How many days? Two? Three? When she tried to think back, her hunger shattered her concentration, and her tongue lashed out, licking the blood dribbling down her chin.

Bloody hel , she was so far gone.

Like the predator she was, she assessed the company around her with a keen eye. Eldrick and Kade, huddled together, discussed in hushed voices. Concern hadn’t left the alpha’s brow since the commander had exploded with moonlight. Linx attended to the freed werewolves—fresh blood seeping into the air as she stitched above a werewolf’s brow. Both Bétar and Todd worked to set up camp, popping squat tents to fight the chill of frosty mornings.

Their efforts to free the werewolves had surfaced her hunger. Talons unsheathed, fighting, spilling blood. It awakened the darkness in her, inciting her hunger, and drawing her further into the shadows of her making.

Tovi swallowed. To leave unseen, without uttering a word was a risk, but sharing the fact she needed to feed was out of the question. The team already distrusted her and slapping them in the face with the damning truth she drank blood, craved it, loved it… Tovi swallowed. Any more judgment and her ancient heart might crumble.

No one noticed as Tovi slunk back into the trees, the proud trunks and spiny arms pulling her farther away and out of sight. She planted her feet, soft and delicate, so not an inch of snow crunched under her boots. She took less steps to hide the sounds of her movement the farther she slipped from the team, and what few sounds she’d made were replaced by a nearby trickling stream and the rustle of tiny creatures she planned to hunt.

Tovi’s head snapped east. The hesitant, slow pattering of paws forced her fangs free. Shutting her eyes, she sniffed the air. The sound and scent indeed traveled from the east.

Gamey. Plump. Small.

Rabbit.

Not Tovi’s first choice in the line of animals ranging across the forests of Drystan, but it was far easier and quicker to kill than an elk. She’d be back without anyone noticing she’d left, fed and sedated until they reached Drystan Village.

She stilled her breath, sights set on the direction of the scent. A hundred yards away, the bristling of brown fur against the forest floor caught her eye.

The rabbit rose on hind legs, frozen as if it felt her gaze locked on it. Hidden by faraway trees, Tovi tracked the rise and fall of its chest. Slinking forward, she stalked closer, intent on not spooking it. The yards dwindled until she was so close, the rise and fall of its furred chest matched the thump, thump, thump , singing to Tovi’s insatiable hunger.

A branch snapped, and Tovi whirled.

With arrow knocked, groaning from tension, Yen stood behind her. The archer lowered her bow.

“Moons, Tovi, I thought you were something else.”

Words died on Tovi’s tongue. She wrestled hunger and self-preservation.

Yennifer’s brows scrunched over her blue eyes that looked past Tovi. The crunch of leaves and sticks signaled the rabbit’s retreat. Yennifer tracked the movement, then sized Tovi up and down.

“I see both of us are hunting then?” She replaced the arrow in its carrier and shouldered her bow.

Bloody hel. The very incident Tovi had attempted to avoid found her. But she was her own fool. Her hunger had been so rampant, she’d overlooked Yennifer’s absence amongst the team.

“I was only getting a bit of space after the fight.” Tovi’s words rushed out, pitched and wrong. “A moment to be alone.”

Yennifer smiled. “And I was merely practicing how to fly.”

Tovi blinked as the archer walked past her. No tension. No wariness. No judgment .

She paused, pushing her long, blonde braid over her shoulder as she squatted and assessed the forest ahead.

“How long has it been since you fed?” She threw the question over her shoulder.

A flush crept across Tovi’s cheeks, and she froze, her body colder than the Drystan air.

“I…” She’d never discussed feeding with anyone but other vampyrs. It was social, sacred for some, and no one hid their hunger. They drank blood almost every day. A drop there. A glass here. It was so ingrained in who they were, Tovi had only grown accustomed to remembering her feedings when she’d lived in Nūa. Discussing them with a werewolf felt like peeling back her skin for Yennifer to peer at her muscles and bones.

Earlier, Tovi had evaded the truth. But the archer had seen her in the act, so there was no sense in lying. Without her usual tactics at her arsenal, Tovi resorted to saying nothing.

Yennifer sighed as she rose, thoughtfully eyeing Tovi. A genuineness wafted from the archer.

“You know, werewolves get the urge to shift from time to time. It’s the beastly magic in us. We can’t always fight off our baser instinct.”

Tovi stilled, the comparison throwing her off. She’d never considered the similarities between werewolves and vampyrs. Shifting. Beasts. Except, they were touched by the light of the Moon God, not… cursed like she was.

Yennifer walked off, headed in the direction the rabbit had scurried off to. Mists collected by her ankles as a darker shade of gray merged into the clouds above. Night dipped its toe into the forest, inch by inch, minute by minute.

“So, when is the last time you fed?” Yennifer asked, turning back with a knowing brow raised.

Tovi sighed. She might have to peel a bit of herself back this time. Just a bit. “I don’t remember.”

Yen hummed. “How about you and I hunt together?”

Such surprise shot through Tovi, she didn’t have the energy to compose herself. “Are you sure?”

The archer shrugged. “Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

Tovi’s stomach backflipped. The offer rocked through her, and Yennifer meant it. A truce. An offering. An understanding. Tovi wasn’t sure what to call it, but she set her shoulders back, appreciating the archer’s kindness.

“Alright,” she said. “But, if you’d allow, I’d love to use the bow and arrow. It has been some time since I’ve had the chance.”

Yennifer laughed. “Only if you swear to tell me when and how you learned the skill.”

Tovi smiled and told a truth.