Chapter 53: Amalea

“Wait! Slow down!” I call out breathlessly to my strange guide as I struggle through the brush after him. I don’t know how far we’ve gone, but it feels like miles. Whatever I was dosed with may have worn off, but my body still feels foreign, like it belongs to someone else. Someone weak and slow. It doesn’t help that I have no shoes, and I’m constantly struggling to keep the cloak my guide gave me tied around me, but it is better than being naked.

I nearly topple backward when he doubles back and pops up beside me—he certainly isn’t slow. “Have you seen others like me come from the mountain? Werewolves I mean? Two boys and a girl?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the creeping realization that I’ve now followed a fae creature deep into their wood. I’ve followed the enemy.

He answers without hesitation—with an elvish stream of gibberish. I can’t understand him. His tone seems friendly at least. The confused look on my face as I try to puzzle out what he means must be clear because