Wolfsong (Green Creek 1) - Page 142

I turned.

Gordo stood, leaning against a tree, panting. His face was sweat-slick and pale. He cradled his left arm against his chest. His clothes were torn. He was bleeding in more places than he wasn’t.

And the tattoos on his arms were the brightest I’d ever seen.

“How did you—”

“It’s the territory,” he said, voice thin and weak. “It belongs to the Bennetts. It always has. It doesn’t like intruders. The earth, it… I can hear it. It talks to me. I can keep him out. For now. But I can’t hold it, Ox. Not forever. Whatever has to happen needs to happen now.”

I reached out and touched the light (barrier?) that surrounded us, separating us from Richard. It felt solid under my fingers, and warm, and there was that thread that connected me to Gordo, one that I’d always felt faintly before. It was never as solid as the others, because even though we were tethered together, he wasn’t pack.

But now it was bright. And strong.

“What has to happen?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer.

Gordo said, “Ox.”

And I knew.

Then a voice sp

oke softly.

It said, “Dad?”

I looked over.

Joe had shifted to human again and was kneeling next to his father. There was a deep, dark bruise stretching the length of his back where he’d struck the tree. Even as I watched, the edges were fading as it healed. I didn’t know if it was because he was who he was that he’d survived that impact. If Carter or Kelly could have done the same.

His father was stretched out before him, still a wolf. His eyes were open and watching his son. He whined quietly in the back of his throat. His tail thumped once. Twice.

Joe said, “You gotta get up.”

Thomas stretched his neck until his nose touched Joe’s hand.

“They’re okay,” he said, like he could hear his father’s question. And for all I knew, he could. “They’re taking care of the rest. But they need you. Okay? You gotta get up.” His voice broke at the end.

Thomas sighed, a great and heaving thing. Like his fears were slipping away.

From behind us, a wolf howled, a song of fury.

I whirled around.

Richard Collins stood, and he was angry. He was snapping his jaw and started hurling himself at the barrier. His eyes were darker than they’d been before, like he was lost to the wolf, all feral and rage. Every time he slammed into the green, the light pulsed outward, like a ripple in water. And it only made him angrier.

“Thomas,” Gordo choked out. “You have to do this. Now. I can’t—”

Thomas began to shift, slower than I’d ever seen it. By the grimace on his wolfish face and the way his body tensed, it was a painful shift. Bones that were broken before were still broken. Cuts were wide and bled freely without any sign of stopping.

Joe moaned above his father, hands shaking as he reached out. He hesitated as if unsure where to touch.

Richard screamed and continued his assault.

Joe said, “Dad.”

Thomas Bennett smiled up at him. His mouth was red and blood dribbled down his cheek. His eyes were clear.

He said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Tags: T.J. Klune Green Creek Fantasy
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