The trees had thick trunks, and between them dangled curling vines the size of Colm’s wrists. On the rocky ground, smaller bushes snagged at his fur-lined boots.
Recently, a wulver beast had been reported here. It had slaughtered deer, other forest animals, and attacked a man passing through.
The sound of a twig snapping broke the silence, and Colm stilled. He let his nanami—the tiny organisms that lived within him—free. His senses expanded, information flooding him. He could hear the tiny insects of the forest buzzing, he could feel the warmth of the sun filtering through the trees, and he could smell the rank scent of rotting meat.
The stench of the wulver.
Colm reached over his shoulder. His sword made the slightest noise as he pulled it free of its leather scabbard. The blade was a true warrior’s weapon—long, heavy, with engravings at the hilt. A sword made for a man to use to kill, hunt and protect.
Another sound reached his ears. Heavy breathing. A snort.
The wulver beast charged out of the undergrowth.
It was huge, its back as tall as Colm’s six foot, five inches. It was covered in dark-gray fur, and its elongated jaws were filled with huge fangs and covered in blood.
It reared back on its hind legs, rising above him like a nightmare, and roared.
Colm stayed calm, tightening his grip on his sword. His dual hearts beat a steady rhythm in his chest. He stared at the burning yellow eyes of the enraged beast.
“Today is a good day to die, my wild friend,” Colm said calmly.
It roared again, like it was defying Colm’s words.
Colm raised his sword, his gut hardening. “When we lose the fight with the wild inside, it is time to leave this world…with honor.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or the beast.
The wulver charged at him, and Colm leaped forward with a cry.
He dodged under the beast’s claws, using the increased speed his nanami granted him. He reached up and sank his blade into the underbelly of the wulver, working through the thick, gray fur.
Its roar this time was deafening, echoing through the forest. Colm yanked his sword out, twisting away, and ducked another swinging claw.
Colm thrust the sword into the creature’s side. It caught the edge of the thicker fur, and he had to put more strength behind the blade.
The animal didn’t give up. Wulver beasts were known to become more enraged when they were injured.
Another thrust to the beast’s belly, and the creature fell backward. It was still struggling to rise, to fight, its yellow eyes fixed on Colm.
Colm wiped the blood off his sword on the beast’s fur and knelt beside the dying animal. “May you hunt well in the next life.”
When the creature breathed its last breath, Colm closed his eyes. He felt a deep, helpless sorrow, and as his nanami surged, threatening to break his control, he tightened his jaw and fought back the restless fury.
There was the sound of pounding footsteps and a body barreled out of the trees. Colm’s best friend pulled up, coming to a halt next to him.
Kavon scowled. “You killed it already and left nothing for me.” He lowered his massive sword.
Kavon was dressed like Colm, in black, leather trousers, with just a leather harness crossing his chest. The harness held Kavon’s sword scabbard to his back. Around his wrists were gold cuffs topped with gray fur. They were from a preda wolf, and matched the ones Colm wore on his own wrists. He’d been there the day Kavon had taken down the great beast…and Colm had killed his own. They’d been twelve.
Kavon’s golden-brown gaze zeroed in on Colm. There was a shrewd intelligence there, and an unwavering determination. It was those qualities that had made Colm pledge allegiance to this man, far more than Kavon’s legendary sword arm.
Colm was so very sorry that soon, he would have to break that allegiance.
Colm shook off his bad feelings and hid them behind a smile. “I’m sure there are some ground hares to be found.”
Kavon muttered a curse.
Colm’s smile turned real. No warrior would ever deign to hunt hare.
“Maybe mated life has made you slow, my friend.” Colm pressed his tongue to his teeth and finished cleaning his sword. “A beautiful woman in your bed has made you lazy. You need to be faster next time.”
Kavon snorted. “I think you are jealous, Colm. You cavort with whatever female takes your interest and toss her out of your bed the next day. You cannot seem to hold on to one. I’ll take Aurina in my bed every night to hunting a wulver any day.”
Colm liked the free-spirited skyflyer Kavon had claimed as his, but Colm knew he would never have a woman of his own.
Couldn’t ever claim a bondmate.
His gut hardened, like a rock had settled there. He sucked in a breath. It didn’t matter. He enjoyed a variety of pretty females when it suited him.