Tim was helping some of the labourers pack everything up when he saw Sylvie come hurrying back from the meeting.

  Blane and Stefan were jogging along beside her, and a growing group of Fraktiri was gathering in their wake. They could feel that something was happening, he knew, because he could feel it too.

  He wasn’t as in tune with the Airta pack as he was with Fenn, but it was enough to feel the rising tension and excitement echo through his bond with Sylvie.

  A deep growl came from Fenn as he got to his feet, his scarred muzzle turning Tim’s way as he waited for guidance.

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Tim said, reaching down to rub Fenn’s head as he let the labourers know he was leaving. The foreman just waved a hand in acknowledgement, too busy making sure that everything was loaded properly.

  Every day they were leaving early and stopping late, which meant any time wasted finding something was lost sleeping time.

  Tim sympathised with them, though his own sleeping arrangements were more basic as he spent his nights with the Airta.

  Some of the shifters liked to spend their nights in their wolf form, cuddled up with other Airta and Fraktiri in a large pile.

  Thankfully, Sylvie wasn’t one of them, instead preferring a bedroll or even a tent in some situations.

  Tim’s amused smile slipped as he rejoined the Airta and realised that about half of them were grabbing their things.

  He’d assumed the serious nature of the meeting was about more signs of destruction in the road, but this felt like something different.

  “Tim,” Sylvie said, her face lighting up as she saw him. “I’m glad you’re here. We’re heading out on a scouting run about those tracks that the Pathfinder found.”

  “Good, I’m coming with you,” Tim said, moving to his mostly stowed pack and starting to finish the job.

  “We’ll be moving fast, it would be better if you stayed here,” Sylvie said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “No,” Tim said, grabbing his pack and swinging it onto his back before turning to face her. “I felt it last night. That rage. It seemed all-encompassing, but there was something else woven through it.”

  Sylvie frowned. “The Draskir have said the same. Do you know what it was?”

  Tim tried to remember exactly what he’d felt, but even with all this practice, his grasp of Airta soul magic was weak at best. “No, sorry.”

  “Such a strange thing, all this,” Sylvie said, her eyes going to the woods on the side of the road. The trees closest to the road were starting to look sick as the corruption of the passing Cyth sank into them, but Tim knew she was thinking about whatever was out there. “It is rare that even our most sensitive people can feel an unbound creature, let alone every Draskir we have.”

  “Which is why I’m coming with you,” Tim said, cupping her cheek as he used his most devastating weapon. “Whatever is out there is dangerous, and I won’t have you facing it alone. I will be there with you, meu drassul.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Sylvie flushed and bit her lip before pulling him down for a brief but passionate kiss. Releasing him, she gestured over to the Kranjir side of the camp.

  “The pathfinder has a spare horse. You’ll need it to keep pace with us.”

  Tim grinned victoriously, which made Sylvie flush all the more, but he did as she asked and set off to find the Pathfinder.

  The handful of surviving Kranjir scouts were easy enough to find, and they nodded a welcome to Tim as he jogged over.

  “You’ve talked her into joining us?” Galstar glanced his way as she checked over her horse. Waiting for Tim to nod before shaking her head and letting out a series of whistles.

  Four of Galstar’s scouts were likewise checking their horses, but at her signal one of them stepped back and waved Tim over.

  “Her rider was lost holding the last wall,” the scout said, his voice a habitual whisper. “She’s been a spare since then, so is rested and eager.”

  Tim nodded along as the scout gave him a quick rundown on what to expect from his new steed. Tim wasn’t really a horse person, but he knew enough to get by.

  Normally, he’d draw on the pack magic that he was gaining and just run with the Airta, but not if they were moving fast. Tim might be more than he used to be, but he was still just human.

  Something in the back of Tim’s mind questioned that final statement more than he was comfortable with, but he firmly quashed that thought.

  Checking his own gear, Tim ensured he was ready before swinging up onto his new horse and taking her on a small walk around the area.

  Fenn trotted along behind the mare, but Tim wasn’t too worried about that. He would channel the pack magic that Fenn needed to keep pace with the Airta.

  Sadly, horses didn’t count, or Tim would have done the same for his steed. Now that would have been something to see.

  Sylvie was calling out orders to the Airta coming with her and Tim perked up as he realised the time had come. Motioning to Galstar’s attention, Tim made a slight gesture to draw her attention to the Airta.

  Nodding, the Pathfinder made her own final preparations, and the two groups joined at the edge of the woods.

  In some ways, this had become Tim’s other role with the Airta. They were quite an insular group, loyal to their friends and steadfast, but difficult to understand.

  Tim put it down to their pack magic, as well as the duality of their nature. They were fundamentally different from the others, and that meant Tim picked up the shortfall in communication.

  It was only small things, but he made sure that the Kranjir and the Airta worked smoothly together. Of course, there was quite a bit he didn’t know about the scarred northerners, but he’d spoken to Verdan and been sent to Padraig.

  As one of the older Thearns, and a Blade to boot, Padraig was a source of wisdom and understanding. It had been interesting, learning the Kranjir way of doing things, and Tim had made a few good friends among them.

  Slowly, but steadily, he was bringing the disparate groups together and helping them work as one. It felt arrogant and pretentious to think that, but as far as Tim could tell, no one else was doing much to help it.

  Shaking his head, Tim focused back on the task at hand as Galstar and Sylvie came together for a brief conversation before the whole group set off.

  Immediately, the Airta shifted into their wolf forms and moved to the flanks of the handful of riders. A few would go further afield, but most would stay in close.

  Right now, they were heading for the tracks that Galstar had found, so speed was what mattered. Tim didn’t need Sylvie to tell him that time was of the essence, they were all keenly aware of that.

  The rest of the army would reach Hobson’s Point in six to eight days, depending on what lay ahead of them. That meant they had a hard limit on how far they could range out from the caravan before having to return.

  Finding his rhythm with his new mount, Tim focused on the prospect of the hunt and pushed that feeling out to Fenn while reaching for the magic that he knew was within him.

  A rush of excitement echoed back from Fenn as the magic took hold, and Tim felt the cool sharpness of the magic as it flowed between them.

  The more he used the pack magic, the more it felt the same as the magic that had come to his aid in the past. Verdan had said they were the same thing, but it was only now, with a lot more practice, that Tim could feel it.

  Soon, he hoped to use it at will for both effects, not just for emulating pack magic. He’d try again when they stopped for the evening, to see if he could finally make it happen.

  Tim knew that when they caught the Cyth there would be a tremendous battle, one that Sylvie would lead the charge to join. When that time came, he wanted this magic to come at his call.

  He needed it to.