Elowyn’s eyes snapped open.
She sat up with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs as her mind braced for the snow and the freezing wind. But there was no ice.
Shockingly enough, it felt...
Warm.
A rich, penetrating heat bathed her skin, so intoxicating after spending days in the freezing cold that her exhausted body begged her to sink back into the thick,padded fur bed beneath her. But panic quickly overruled her weariness.
Where in the world was she?
She scrambled to assess her surroundings. To her surprise, she had been tucked in a clever, well-insulated traveler’s shelter, and in the center of the camp, a modest hearth fire burned quietly, its amber embers casting long, gentle shadows against the rock walls. The sharp tang of drying pine needles and boiling medicinal roots hung thick in the warm air.
How is she...
Did the fox stranger do this?!
Clutching the fur blanket to her chest, Elowyn’s gaze searched the dimly-lit camp, and she instantly spotted the dying stranger lying on a separate bedding.
She slid out from her own bed and rushed across the shelter, sinking to her knees beside his pallet. She hovered anxiously over his chest, straining to hear his breath until a gentle, warm exhale brushed against her fingertips.
He was still alive.
A breathless, dizzy laugh of relief bubbled in her throat. She leaned closer to examine his freshly bandaged wound,but as her eyes drifted to his face, her hands stalled mid-air.
Huh?
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
Back in the blinding snow, he had been a frozen, blood-crusted corpse. But now, bathed in the dancing, amber glow of the hearth, the ice gone and his cold skin warm to a pale, porcelain touch, he looked almost unrecognizable.
This man had to be, without exaggeration, the most ethereal male she had ever seen. He looked so unearthly that Elowyn felt a sudden pang of hesitation, half-fearing that staring directly at him might trap her in an enchantment.
Long, flowing silver-white hair spilled across his pillows, its lustrous strands catching the faint light like freshly fallen snow beneath the moon. It framed a striking face of high cheekbones, a sharply defined jaw, and features so exquisitely proportioned that he seemed almost unreal. Even in his unconscious state, there was something almost imperious about the line of his brow and the proud structure of his face that retained an extraordinarily elegance.
Elowyn stared in awe, unable to fathom how any beastman could be blessed with such regal grace. Except...
Hold on.
Elowyn’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she leaned down, her eyes scanning his head, his lower back, his hair, searching for something, anything.
She sat on her heels, frozen in total disbelief.
This man...
"Where are his tail and ears?"
Their absence made her lean closer, frantically lifting the edge of his blanket as if his beast traits might simply be tucked out of sight. But as her hands searched the empty air, the stunning reality took hold.
He didn’t have any.
He’s like me.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Is he a shiftless, too? Visit novelping.com for the full chapter.
How on earth had she missed this the entire time?
Elowyn had never seen anyone like him.
She had grown accustomed to the peculiarities of beastmen, to their ears, tails, claws, and all the other features that distinguished one species from another. But this man possessed a beauty that seemed to transcend such distinctions entirely.
It was almost unfair.
Is that why he’s like this? Did his tribe tear him apart for being born without a form?
She had spent her entire life believing she was the only defective creature in these mountains. Now, lying broken before her was another shiftless, and he was breathlessly, unearthly beautiful. But looking at his stitched-up wounds, terror replaced her awe. Had his people hunted him down like this? Had they beaten him within an inch of his life before discarding him in the cold, and in the middle of nowhere at that too?
A sharp, familiar heartache flared in her chest. She looked at his pale, silent face with a sudden, fiercely protective warmth. She knew the weight of that loneliness. She knew what it meant to be hated simply for existing.
"I see you’re finally awake."
The smooth voice behind her broke through the quiet shelter. Elowyn jumped, spinning around to face the fox beastman she had collapsed before. He stood in the entryway, framing the gray winter light behind him. In his hands, he carried an earthenware bowl of warm water and a strip of clean cloth.
Elowyn quickly rose to her feet, dipping into a low, respectful bow. "Y-you saved us..."
The beastman passed by her without a sound, his fox tail brushing past her feet in a way she could hardly feel it. He offered her a sharp, assessing glance before sinking gracefully onto his knees beside the stranger.
"Had I not, the snow would have claimed you both before midnight," he said softly. His dialect was strange, accented with crisp, foreign vowels that felt alien to Elowyn’s tribal ears, yet his tone possessed a steady, magnetic calm. "You ought to be resting, so don’t worry about him. The crisis has passed.I have dressed his lacerations and neutralized the poison in his system. I cannot guarantee the hour he will awaken, but his pulse is strong."
Poisoned?!
He was poisoned?!
Elowyn’s breath hitched, but she clamped her lips shut. She simply let the beastman do what needed to be done to ensure his safety.
Her heart swelled with silent devotion. He owed them nothing, yet he carried two complete strangers out of a blizzard. Even when she had offered her own life up so that at least one of them might live, this man still chose to rescue them both from the approaching blizzard.
"Is there... anything I can do to help?" she offered timidly, wringing her hands. "Anything at all?"
The fox beastman tilted his head, thoughtfully dipping the rag into the warm basin. "Indeed. There is one vital task required of you."
Elowyn perked up at that, eager to prove her worth.
"Return to your bedding and stay there," he commanded gently, pointing toward the corner she had abandoned. "You are in no condition to be pacing about. Are you intent on making my medicinal herbs go to waste?"
Elowyn shook her head rapidly, utterly chastised. She retreated instantly to her pallet, pulling the plush furs up to her chin.
Sitting in the warm glow of the fire, she watched his slender, elegant hands work over the silver-haired stranger. The dread that had weighed on her soul for hours began to melt away.
Soon, the stranger would wake up and be on his way. She had done what she could, but the credit belonged to this cultured beastman.
Looking down at herself, Elowyn realized for the first time that the deep, raw cuts left by her vine harness had been carefully cleaned and wrapped in soft linen.
He really is a healer...
His presence felt like a protective shield against the harsh world outside, and a strange sense of peace washed over her. Elowyn hardly understood this feeling, but she didn’t fight it either. Instead, she let it pull her under, lulling her heavy eyelids shut. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
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Hunger woke her up next.
It was already pitch-black outside, and Elowyn felt as if her empty stomach was trying to chew itself from the inside out.
The Fox healer was nowhere to be seen. But a sudden, rich, mouthwatering aroma drifted through the night air, catching her nostrils. Her mouth flooded with saliva, and her stomach let out an ungodly, hollow growl in protest.
What... what was that heavenly aroma?
Driven entirely by her senses, Elowyn pushed back the heavy fur blanket and wobbled to her feet. Following the irresistible scent out into the crisp night, she peeked around the boulder framing the shelter.
A small, contained fire crackled in the lee of the rock face. Sitting beside it was the Fox beastman, meticulously seasoning fresh meat skewered on peeled pine twigs. The meat was golden-brown, glistening with juices that hissed as they dripped into the fire.
Elowyn’s mouth watered instantly. She swallowed hard, her throat tight as she tried to muster the courage to ask for a scrap.
Before she could open her mouth to speak, the beastman spoke without even turning his head.
"You woke up at the right moment," he said smoothly, pulling a perfectly roasted skewer from the fire and extending it toward her. "Eat while it’s still hot. It’s ill-advised to sleep on an empty stomach."
Elowyn stood glued to the spot, her eyes darting between the sizzling meat and his serene face. Unprompted kindness was a currency she was entirely unaccustomed to receiving.
Sensing no trap, she stepped into the firelight and sank onto the stone cross-legged next to him.She accepted the wooden skewer with two trembling hands, bowing low.
She stared at the roast up close, half-afraid it would vanish if she blinked. Leaning in, she took a timid, careful bite. Instantly, metaphoric stars burst across her vision.
Back at the IronFang tribe, meat was usually charred black on the outside and raw in the middle, seasoned with nothing but salt and ash. But this? The meat was ridiculously tender, dripping with aromatic juices seared with wild mountain thyme and sweet root nectar.
It was... the best thing she had ever tasted.
Her survival instincts completely hijacked her manners. Elowyn devoured the skewer, tearing into the meat with enthusiastic, unbridled joy until her mouth was packed to maximum capacity.
A subtle flick of russet fur caught her sight.
She glanced sideways and caught the Fox healer staring at her in absolute, silent shock. He looked entirely baffled by the sheer speed at which the tiny girl had demolished half the skewer.
Elowyn’s chewing ground to a sudden halt.
Sitting there with her cheeks bulging like a stuffed chipmunk, a wave of heat flushed her entire face. She clapped a hand over her mouth, swallowing frantically until she could finally squeeze out a squeaky, mortified apology.
"Pardon my manners!" she gasped, her cheeks still flushed beet-red. "I... I promise I usually have decorum! I’ve just been chewing on frozen pine bark for two days straight."
A low, smooth chuckle rumbled from the beastman’s chest, a sound so warm it made the freezing winter night feel a little bit smaller.
"I’ve just... never tasted anything like this in my entire life," she babbled, holding up the bare wooden twig as if it were a magical artifact. "I’ve also eaten roasted meat before, but how did you get it to taste like this? Is it a secret clan technique? Can you share?"
The Fox healer turned his amber gaze toward her, a subtle, knowing smile gracing his features. "There is no secret. Merely dried salt-flower and ground ember-root. But given that you have lived your life trapped in these rugged peaks, it is natural that refined seasoning feels like magic to you."
Elowyn blinked, her skewer freezing mid-air.
"Are... are you saying you aren’t from the mountain tribes?"
The healer casually turned another skewer over the glowing coals, the elegant tilt of his ears betraying a quiet, nobility-like poise that no local hunter possessed.
Elowyn’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as the unbelievable truth clicked into place.
"Are you... by the ancestors, are you from the Capital?!"