A Stone's Throw (The Gryphonpike Chronicles Book 3)
adventures.
    Drake was easy to track since I knew where he was headed. I caught up to him just outside town, shadowing him until we were into the rolling plains. Then I slipped up beside him, making sure my feet made some noise so he would be aware of my presence.
    “Killer,” he hissed. “Should’ve known you’d trail me. I’m not going back.”
    I’m not here to turn you back, just keep you alive if I can . I raised my bow and jiggled my quiver so the arrows rattled a little. Nausea punched me in the belly as my curse decided to count this as communication, but I swallowed the bile and stared at Drake, willing him to catch a hint.
    “Okay, then.” He nodded. “Let’s go.”
    He had a pair of wire-framed spectacles with a smoky crystal lenses perched precariously on his bony nose. I’d never seen them before and raised an eyebrow, though I doubted he could see much through the lenses.
    “They give me night vision about as good as yours, I bet,” Drake said, pushing the spectacles more firmly into place. “I borrowed them from Rahiel’s stash of things to pay back her debts with. I’d say don’t tell her, but heh, kinda pointless to say that to you, eh?”
    I rolled my eyes and turned away from him to hide my smile. I doubted the flimsy spectacles gave him vision anywhere near as good as mine, and I wouldn’t have told Rahiel even if I could talk. She was definitely a shoot the messenger kind of person. Or perhaps a “turn messenger into pink rabbit” kind of person.
    “Thanks, Killer, for coming with me,” Drake murmured almost too softly even for my ears to catch over the sound of the wind in the grass and the crickets chirping in some further off bluff.
    We knew where we were going and we moved quickly, Drake’s long legs helping him keep up with my own. We were nearly to the sinkhole when my instincts started screaming at me as the chirps of crickets and belches of frogs along the stream bank ceased. I threw up my hand, sucking in a breath at the pain as my curse whacked the inside my skull and my head began to ache. Drake read the gesture and we both stopped, him easing his rapier from its scabbard and me slipping an arrow from my quiver.
    Thick white mist rose off the water, flowed over the bank, and coalesced into Fade. The mist-lynx growled, the deep rumble carrying over the stream’s burble. Familiar dark shapes rose up around us. Blunt noses, thick heads, too many teeth, and ridges of fur rising on their spines.
    The warakin pack had returned.
    Splinters! We weren’t equipped to deal with them. I could take out three or four before they reached us, but the fight from the morning hadn’t dented their numbers nearly enough. My quick survey counted fifteen, at least. I found myself pining for Makha’s armored bulk and Azyrin’s deadly sword and vowed to resume my melee lessons with Drake if we survived the night.
    “Nice puppies,” Drake said, moving so we were back-to-back.
    Fade growled louder and the large darker furred warakin I had pegged as their leader slunk forward, snarling. The mist-lynx turned his liquid silver eyes to me and then made an odd noise somewhere between a cough and a snarl before turning back to face the large warakin. In a smooth leap, he sprang at the leader and then clashed in a spray of blood and fur, teeth and claws tearing.
    I raised my bow, searching for an opening, but Drake grabbed my shoulder.
    “Don’t,” he whispered, looking past me at the fight. “They are battling for dominance, I think. If Fade wins, we might not have to try to kill the rest.”
    I shrugged his hand off but let my arms relax. I hoped Drake was right. None of the other warakin were attacking. They stood as silent sentinels, their glinting eyes fixed on the battle.
    The fight did not last long. It was difficult to track what was happening, but more brown fur flew than silver and black and I tried to trust that Fade would dematerialize if he felt he were in any true danger or if he

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