The Tether

Kael stiffened in her arms. A growl rumbled in his small chest, though it sounded more like a purr of fear.

Elara froze. She scrambled to the small gap in the roots, peering out into the gray twilight.

Through the sleet, she saw them. Shadows moving through the mist. The Witch-Hunters. They wore coats of boiled leather and masks of iron. Leading them were the Hounds—massive, hairless beasts with runes branded into their flanks.

The Hounds weren’t sniffing the ground. They were sniffing the air. They were tracking the ozone scent of spent mana.

They were tracking *her*.

Elara pulled back, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked at Kael. The iron sickness had left him too weak to walk, let alone run. If she tried to carry him, they would both be caught in minutes.

The Hounds would tear him apart because he was with her. But if he was alone... if he was just a stray wolf in the woods... they wouldn't waste an arrow on him. Their bounty was for witches.

"Kael," Elara said, her voice shaking.

She began to untie the heavy wool sash from her waist.

Kael watched her, his head tilted. Then, realization dawned in his amber eyes. He scrambled backward, his claws scraping uselessly against the frozen dirt. He barked—a sharp, pleading sound. *No.*

"You can't walk," Elara said, her hands trembling as she knotted the sash into a loop. "And I can't carry you fast enough."

Kael snapped at her hand, trying to grab the sash, trying to stop her. He forced himself to stand, his injured leg trembling, trying to shift. He wanted to be human. He wanted to be strong enough to fight for her.

But the iron poison held him fast. He was trapped in the body of a pup. He collapsed, whimpering in frustration.

Elara grabbed him by the scruff, pulling him close. She tied the wool sash around his neck like a collar.

"Listen to me," she commanded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You are going to the Wildlands. You are going to live."

She pressed her forehead against his. She channeled every last scrap of magic she had left—her life force, her memories, her love—into the knot of the sash.

"By my blood and my breath," she incanted, the words burning her tongue. "I bind you to the path of safety. You will run to the creek. You will cross it. You will not stop. You will not look back."

* A Compulsion Spell.* The cruelest magic a witch could use on a familiar.

Kael howled. It was a sound of pure betrayal. He thrashed, biting at the wool, biting at her hands. He didn't want safety. He wanted *her*.

"I'm sorry," Elara sobbed, stroking his ears one last time. "I'm so sorry, Kael. Go build the cabin for us."

She shoved him toward the opening of the hollow.