Atticus
He was reading about the Battle of Barren Bridge – the battle that had ignited The Longest War – in a limp attempt to distract himself from the news his lead spy, Griffin, had dropped upon on him as the sun breached the sky.He’d had to hold tight to his temper as he’d listened; the first few wolves had been gathering in the field for training as Griffin had murmured low in his ear.
“The Red Ripper pack,” he’d whispered. “That’s what they’re calling themselves.” Atticus had been conscious of eyes on him – eyes that looked to him for guidance. He’d squashed his rage, and pasted on a nonchalant smile.
“Very well.” He’d dismissed Griffin with a pat to the shoulder, a familial gesture which he’d hoped had put the few pack members gathered at ease. It was
LilyUnbidden, her feet were moving, traipsing through the undergrowth bordering a small, treetop town. Ladders were strung between branches, some dangling to brush the ground, others acting as bridges between homes and other, larger buildings. In the dim, dawn light, Lily could not make out quite what they were.Keeping her gaze low and her breath steady, she peered around as discreetly as she could. The eleve – still posing as her father, a fact that made her lungs stumble for air and her gut clench – was dragging her towards a ladder beneath an ornate arch, with a beautiful creature settled on a seat carved of oak tucked beside it.The creature smiled as they neared, its unearthly face shimmering softly in the first rays of fractured sunlight. The light itself did not look entirely real: it fell in curling waves, more like clouds than sunlight, and it was too glos
UnknownHe paused, idly touching the sword strapped down his back. Grey eyes surveyed the drowsy woodland, picking out buzzing insects and birds with unnaturally glossy feathers.Not wanting to bring anything that would be of value should it be stolen, he’d left the detailed map of Eldda and its inhabitants behind. He’d spent his whole life staring at it, tracing fingertips across the whorls of land and sea. He’d learnt the territory lines before he was ten, and by the time he’d taken his place as Alpha at age twelve, he’d been well-versed in every pack, their rights and rituals, their trade, and where their borders lay.Knowing the markings was one thing. Losing himself in the no man’s land between packs was quite another.In the days since he’d left the Sea Pine pack’s territory, he’d fought off a slew
LilyShe had a plan.“A lifetime in my service?” Efaffion repeated, eyes flickering with an emotion she couldn’t read. Her chest tightened, and the air in her lungs suddenly did not feel like enough.Of course, she had no idea if her plan would work. She didn’t know enough about the eleve to be able to count on it, and she doubted that such a creature – ageless, immortal – would be stupid enough to allow her to trick him. Then again, maybe it was simple enough that it might just work.“Yes,” Lily said, courage failing. The way he watched her was unnerving, as if she were a gift to be unwrapped slowly, layer by layer. Steeling herself, she managed to continue. “But only if I lose.”“And if you win?”“I – I walk out of here alive. And w
UnknownHe’d been stumbling through the woods surrounding Oakhame, his head a mess of memories and doubts, until he’d felt her fear.Heart thundering, he’d forgotten his worries. There was only her.He started towards the nearest ladder, her shirt flapping around his thighs, the sword down his back jostling with every step. He kicked aside fallen branches and piles of perfect, gleaming fruits, their unnatural beauty hardly registering as he gave himself over to his heart.He allowed it to pull him away from the ladder, though his head swore that she would be up there, lost somewhere in the treetop town. He’d seen her ascend a ladder just like this one, arms bound behind her back, but the bond between them simply shook its head. Trusting it had got him this far, so he turned away, slipping unseen back into the undergrowth. 
Lily She was falling. Not just physically – though she was, indeed, hurtling towards the ground at a sickening pace; something within her was lurching, changing, shifting. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to see her body plummet as her heart gave way, too. Time stretched and warped as the wind whipped her hair behind her, stinging her cheeks and whispering in her ears. A branch smacked her face, and then time sped up. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but she did not let them spill. She crashed through twigs and pine needles and thorns, feeling them scrape against and then through her skin. Her temple and cheek stung, angry heat pooling in a sharp line down them. She smacked into the ground. It was like being struck by lightning, like colliding with a star. Every part of her burned, and she lay there for a moment, adrena
LilyButtery sunlight fell in soft waves to the forest floor. Lily wanted to close her eyes, to revel in the feel of eternal dawn upon her skin. She did not need to look to know exactly where she was going.He called to her. It swelled deep in her chest, her scarred heart pounding against her ribcage. The sickness at the similarity of this to feeling dulled, until it was little more than an ache in her temples. This was not Atticus. That pain – the pain he had caused – was merely temporary. Her true path lay ahead.Four white trees stood in a perfect diamond. Lily stilled, cocking her head to one side. A man was resting against one, his sword tossed on the ground beside him. She could smell fresh basil and citrus, undercut with something smoky; a bonfire breathing darkness into the dawn. She feared her growing heart might crush her lungs.
ElijahHer wounded leg gave out. He dropped his sword, letting it clatter to the forest floor. It did not matter – not as she did.Holding her gently, tenderly, he lifted her to his chest. Leaning down, he grabbed his sword quickly, adjusting her in her grasp as he slid it back down his spine. Her bloodied face pressed against him, and he could have wept. Panic rose in his chest, in his throat. Her eyes were closed.“Lily?” he tried, her name foreign – but beautiful – on his tongue. It fit. It fit, and it felt right for him to be the one to say it. His heart thundered, and the echo of hers was the only thing keeping him sane.“Lily?” he whispered, struggling to feel for a pulse with her clutched so tightly in his arms. But he found it, and he exhaled heavily. Numb and overwhelmed, he held her reverently. Since the fi
AtticusHoney-brown hair spilled across the pillow, tangled from hours of restless sleep. Darkness swelled outside, watching, waiting. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, shadowed crescent moons spilling spider’s legs across his skin in the dusty moonlight.Behind closed eyelids, green eyes searched relentlessly for one thing: her. His heart ached, pulsing with need for a girl with brown eyes that saw beyond the mask he presented to everyone else. Her eyes were brown, but they shone with gold.His fist crumpled the rumpled duvet. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath catching in his throat.He was in the garden again. Spring leaves formed an archway, a floating path that wound gracefully between the wide boughs of the trees. His feet followed it weightlessly. And, for once, his head felt empty, quiet, peaceful. His mind was gentle; she soothe