[1st draft] Bora's near-death experience caused a brief separation from Gemma, but to live in peace, he must end the Seven Shadows.
Bora Hawk, the polar wolf, has an unexplained target on his back. His enemies want him dead, caged, or becoming the...
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I loathe their attire. It's extreme, packed with this much bulky material. A lag in my brain overwhelms me as I put on the jet leather over the chest chain mail. My cane supports my gravity while I take a seat on the ottoman size boulder in my room. Weakness only seeks for those who allow it. A year. I've been away from you for an entire year. She needs me. So I declined the offer. There is no need to think about it.
I threw the white mantle fox wrap over my collar and grabbed my steel point cane for the frigid ground. If I am strong enough to walk, I'm strong enough to hunt, and if I am strong enough to hunt, I'm strong enough to make it back to you. I stand, cradling my side.
I peered out into the corridor and spotted Miska cracking up with a fellow companion as I slipped behind a pillar. I peek aside, observing their conversation and body language, anticipating her next move. Will she parade this way or go another direction? She pats his back, taking their leave out the opposite gates. Good girl.
I break for the exit. This limp will not stop me as I sneak past servants and chattering chef she-wolves that hang over the blaze charcoal burner. I hope my wobbles won't cause me to lose balance. One swipe and turn and slip out the wine cave door. I made it. The outside chilled air is a slap, but the taste of my freedom from this unfamiliar place. Through broad snow, I stagger for miles. Every crunch is burning my calves, nearing to dislocate my hips. The strain is wearing me to my knees. I need a break.
I can do this, I was through worse circumstances. A sip of water soothes my throat that I snagged from the bakehouse on the way out. After a while, I won't have this gratifying drink. It's okay, I have nature to survive off of. I just need my strength. A breath. My body senses are out of whack because of my fever that I got an hour ago. I rest my nerves on a distressed damp log that must have swam the creek. I will have to boil some water soon.
I lower my head for a second, a fine, rumbling grunt caressing into my ear. Rising, I met a set of hungry eyes near famine, a polar bear stalking me. A friend named Fear settled in my gut, braiding it into a gnarled knot. This bastard shook me. Murdered by a malnourished wet ball, I couldn't help but chuckle at my luck.
Sorry, my friend, but you and I are the same. Except only one can claim victory. My life may be as implausible as yours, but I got shit to do. I held out my arms. Come at me. Funny who is the bigger monster here. I feel sorry for it.
Despite the bear charging at me, I remained still. It's me or him. He thrashed my chest onto my back as the intense impact stabbed my nerves. I kept his teeth from embedding into my flesh. This beast's starvation is feeding off of strength and desperation, which is inaccessible to fight off. The polar slipped through my fingers, and its sharp fang scraped my cheek. The anxiety of tasting my blood gave it a boost of adrenaline to advance further. I'm screwed.
