Souls sometimes die within a person . . .

Once, Lyudmila had found a chip of turquoise. The beautiful stone had been lodged between other red rocks, like a blue vein in the earth. Its color enchanted her . . . a sliver of sky underground, bright and lovely and unexpected. She’d tried to pry it free with her teeth, and to her disappointment, ultimately failed. She lacked the tools to mine such a prize. Nevertheless, the pup memorized where she’d discovered the turquoise, and sometimes visited the place as though it held some sort of mystic power. One day, she planned to show her siblings—and then they could all search for new turquoise nests together.

At first, the ivory-and-ebony male’s eyes reminded her of that magical turquoise. They were the same limpid shade, impossibly azure in the dark mask of his face. His glare hit her in the chest. Pinned her in place, for a few painful seconds. And in that heartbeat of time, Lyudmila divorced the similarity of his eyes to her turquoise—because that ruthless stare wasn’t beautiful at all. It was a hard, graceless bludgeon meant to hurt and subdue. After she unleashed her snarl, Mila ripped her gaze away from those pitiless portals and raced as fast as her legs would carry her toward where her mother hopefully rested . . .

Crimson dust sprayed up from too-large paws as she ran, dyeing the girl’s underside and limbs a pastel pink. It seemed as if she’d only made it a few strides when a great clattering of pebbles and scraping of talons against stone resounded behind her. He’s after me! The painted enemy had thrown himself into pursuit, longer legs and stronger body easily propelling him after the young pup. Furious frustration clenched Mila’s pounding heart; her already grimacing face twisted into a tighter expression of determination and anger, muscles screaming as she pushed herself faster. This cur is fast, but I know the land better—I know where to dodge and hide and—

“Run run run little lamb!” A cackle of pure madness echoed behind her, springing off rocky shapes on either side to taunt her at every angle. Lyudmila answered with another childish shriek of rage. Her hackles spiked higher, rippling in the slipstream of her sprint, and she gauged her claws into the reddish dirt as if peeling into the male’s parasite-infested pelt—

A abrupt rush of air slashed above her. Lyudmila glanced upward in consternation to see the beast’s underbelly sailing over her head, and did not have time to stop herself when his gigantic paws collided with her shoulder blades and the daggers of his feet sank into her skin and his weight crushed her legs out from under her and she was tripping, falling, smashed into the ground with so much force all air left her lungs in a stunned cry. The lass twisted at the last second so as not to take the brunt of impact upon her sternum—instead flipping onto her left shoulder—and both lupines scraped across the plain long enough for ugly gashes to carve themselves into Mila’s snowy side. Shock rendered Lyudmila totally still. Was she dead? How badly injured was she? She couldn’t tell, the male was crushing her lungs flat with his weight and her left side felt like liquid fire had been poured over her flesh and when she squirmed her legs wouldn’t work right . . .

“G-get off me . . .” She meant the words to escape as a deadly snarl, but instead she could only speak in a breathless whine. Squirming did no good; the bastard’s talons raked under the protective fluff of her fur and into her skin, deep enough to cut. “My mommy will kill you. I will kill you.” And even though tears of pain were leaking into her eyes, even though it hurt to breath and she was scared, so scared, Mila craned her neck around and spat right at her attacker’s face.

. . . and are replaced by others.

Kershov x Nimueh | Heiress of Crith Thalmhainn | No love | xathira