The men around him moved quickly, lighting torches from the flames of hanging lanterns and running for the edges of the camp. They seemed almost relieved to have someone giving orders.
“I’ll take the north side,” Jaromir told Quinn. “You take the south. I’ll listen to the west, and you to the east. If it tries to get out, one of us should be able to reach the men trying to keep it in. If it doesn’t appear, I’ll call an order for everyone to start moving inward.”
Quinn nodded and turned to head south.
“Jaromir!”
To his utter disbelief, Amelie came running up, wearing nothing but her shift and her cloak . . . wielding a dagger. What could she be thinking?
“I need a better weapon,” she said. “Quick.”
Men were shouting to one another at the perimeter, and Quinn looked back. “Get that woman out of here!”
Fighting the anger rising inside him, Jaromir leaned down toward Amelie’s flushed face. “Go back to your tent right now.”
“No, I can help. Just get me a weapon.”
“I don’t have time for this!” he shouted, knowing he should have reached the northern perimeter by now. “For once, just do as I say and get back to your tent!”
She didn’t move, but her features twisted to match the rage he was feeling.
One of Quinn’s men was still within earshot. “You!” Jaromir called. “Get this lady back to her tent.”
Then he bolted, with Rurik on his heels, leaving Amelie behind.
“Amelie!”
Céline watched her sister run out of the tent, and for a moment, she sat in fear and uncertainty. She’d been so tired and had fallen so deeply asleep. Now she could hear shouting from all around outside . . . and Amelie had just gone out there.
Struggling to gather her wits, Céline got out of bed and pulled on her boots and cloak.
She slipped out the flap of the tent, looking both ways. Her sister was nowhere in sight, and although she could see none of the soldiers, the camp seemed to have erupted in the sounds of men shouting to one another.
What was happening?
A low growl sounded from behind, and slowly, she turned around.
She froze.
Beneath the light from a hanging lantern crouched something akin to a wolf. It was huge, with a wide chest, and paws larger than Jaromir’s hands. Its eyes were red, and saliva dripped from the fangs of its long, open mouth.
Céline didn’t move, breathing softly, but it growled low again.
She saw nothing but madness in the creature’s eyes.
Tensing its body, it charged.
Céline dashed forward, running as fast as she could, not even looking where she was going.
“Amelie!” she screamed.
Amelie shook with humiliation and anger as she was “escorted” back to her tent by a Pählen soldier. She’d find a way to make Jaromir pay for this. Though the soldier carried a short, thick spear, he appeared beyond nervous and looked into every shadow as he ushered her along.
Then . . . over the shouts of soldiers calling out to one another, a scream rang out.
“Amelie!”
At the sound of Céline’s cry, Amelie whirled, catching the Pählen soldier in the back of his ankle with the toe of her boot, sending him sprawling. As he fell, she grabbed the spear from his hand.
After crouching to shove her dagger back into the sheath in her boot, she gripped the spear in both hands and ran toward the sound of Céline’s voice.
Jaromir had just reached the north perimeter when he heard Céline scream.
“Amelie!”
He jerked to a stop, with Rurik skidding beside him.
“That was Céline!” Rurik cried, stating the obvious.
“Quiet,” Jaromir ordered, listening.
He heard no loud snarls, and Céline did not scream again, so he was torn. What if her plight had nothing to do with the beast stalking these tents? He had a responsibility to help Quinn keep the wolf from breaking into the trees.
But . . . he had a greater responsibility to Anton, and that meant protecting Céline and Amelie.
“Rurik, you take my place here, working with Quinn. Listen for him. If he calls for help, you run to him, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Leaving Rurik behind, Jaromir jogged to the west, around the edge of the camp, and was unsettled to see how sparsely guarded it was on this side. He’d need to do something about that quickly.
But he never had time.
A second later, Céline burst from between two of the outer tents about forty paces ahead of him, and she ran for the trees. A large, furred creature on four legs burst out after her, closing the distance, and they both vanished into the surrounding forest.
“Quinn!” Jaromir shouted. “Rurik! Over here!”
He bolted forward.
With little choice, Céline fled blindly into the forest, thinking of nothing but escape.
She could feel and hear the great wolf right on her heels, and she tried dodging around a tree, hoping it might run past and give her a few seconds.
But both its speed and its control of its body were astonishing. As she dodged, it dropped down on its haunches and turned to charge. All she could see were teeth and fur and mad red eyes.
I’m going to die, she thought.
But before the wolf could launch, something smaller and darker—and just as heavily furred—came dashing through the trees and leaped, catching the slathering wolf in the side and knocking it off its feet. Snarls and growls filled the night air.
Céline gasped, unable to see well in the darkness, but then she heard the sound of booted feet crashing through the forest, and Jaromir broke into sight carrying some kind of heavy club.
Whirling her head back toward the wolf, she found that the smaller creature—which she’d never seen clearly—was gone.
The red-eyed beast was on its feet, charging at her again.
Jaromir closed in from the side, swinging his club downward, catching the wolf across the side of its head. The sound resonated so loudly, she thought he must have cracked its skull.
“Céline, stay back!” he shouted.
The massive wolf didn’t stay down. It rolled several times, snarling in rage, and gained its feet again, rushing Jaromir. He gripped his club, but Céline didn’t see how he could withstand a full onslaught from something so large, and she looked around wildly for a branch, for anything with which to help him.
As the wolf raced past her, someone blurred into view from the other side of the tree, swinging a narrow object downward. A loud crack sounded out, and Céline whirled to see Amelie, in her red cloak, with a short spear in her grip, and . . . she had just landed a blow on the beast’s head with the spear’s butt.
Whipping the spear back up, Amelie brought it down again, hard, on the back of the wolf’s neck, and the already stunned creature collapsed. She swung again, this time with another strike for its head, and it lay still, with its eyes closed, but it was breathing.
Then all Céline could hear was Jaromir and Amelie both panting as they stared at each other.
“There’s your captive, Céline,” Amelie breathed.
Corporal Quinn, Guardsman Rurik, and three other men broke through the trees, and Quinn raised his spear at the sight of the wolf on the ground.
“No,” Jaromir said, still panting but holding up one hand. “We need it.”
Quinn looked uncertain and didn’t lower the spear.
Feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach, Céline somehow stepped between them. “Please, Corporal . . . just tie it up somewhere and don’t give it any water.”
The world around her began to spin, and the ground came rushing up.