* * *
Serena cries out, throwing her arms in front of her. Rolling to the side, her sturdy platform gives way to nothingness, and she falls. A branch clips her feet, sending her into a spin. Another one catches her midsection, stopping her, but it cannot hold under her weight. It cracks and she falls again, landing on another branch with a thud. Breath escapes her lungs under a forced wheeze and does not come back for several painful seconds.
Her eyes fly open at the sound of twigs and sticks hitting soft dirt. She is too close to the ground. Tree tops spin through the branches above her. Groaning, Serena forces herself to sit up, wrapping one leg around the branch to keep steady. One hand goes to the pounding on the side of her head, the other to the pain in her ribs. Her whole body begins to shake.
Come on, Werewolf Liaison, get up, Serena coaxes herself. She turns, peering over the branch to scan the ground. A blue jewel sparkles back at her—her mom's necklace, splayed out over the shrubs below.
"Damn," Serena says out loud.
She looks up, shielding her eyes from the harsh morning sunlight that filters down from the canopy. Leaves flutter from side to side and branches sway in the wind, helping the sun to play a nasty game of peekaboo.
Serena squints, realizing she must have slept through half the morning. From the first year in school, young Undine are taught never to be caught in daylight. It is when Ungainlies are most likely to prowl the earth and sea, harvesting what they can. Besides—the sunlight hurts. And yet, the king's words were clear; Serena is to remain with her chosen job for two nights. One down, one to go.
Her weapon remains high up in her overnight nest, but she hesitates, leaving one of her only family heirlooms exposed on the ground.
A quick hop down and quick hop up.
She squats and her fingers curl in, anticipating the jump. A foreign smell drifts past her nose, and she pauses.
Werewolf.
Serena barely has time to scoot back to the sturdy center of the branch when she hears a twig snap. Her eyes dart from one spot to another, scanning the ground, trying to pinpoint the noise. Light filtering down creates sharp glares and distorted sunspots in front of Serena's eyes, blurring out part of the landscape.
I need to see.
The sound and smell of heavy breathing below are enough to convince her to stay put. From around the base of her tree, a paw—and another. Then there is a long muzzle, followed by light brown fur.
Her heart catches in her throat. Werewolves can transform outside of the full moon—in broad daylight, nonetheless. The light brown fur on his muzzle also covers the rest his body, except for a crescent-shaped patch of beige hair on the side of his face. The rest of the wolf emerges into Serena's sight. He is twice the size of the average Vancouver wolf. Unnaturally bulky muscles wrap around his shoulders. His back legs are larger and more defined than those in the front, and long, yellowed claws extend from every paw.
The wolf passes over her mother's necklace, its tail swinging once to the right. When it disappears behind the tree again, the necklace is in its mouth.
"Hey!" Serena shouts. "Give that back!"
She swallows hard. There is no answer but the wind blowing through the trees. Serena turns around, balancing on the branch, looking for the wolf. "Hello?"
Another twig snaps.
Her head whips around and the wolf emerges again. This time the chain of her mother's necklace hangs out between sharp teeth. Altering his path, he steps away from the tree and sits. Head cocked to the side, he looks up at her, allowing the necklace to fall from his mouth. The charm lands with a soft thud, and the chain pools on top of it.
The wolf leans to the side, then digs his nose into one of his back legs. When he finishes, he looks back at Serena, running his long tongue over his snout. Serena wrinkles her own nose.
"So are you going to give it back?" Serena asks. She risks moving forward along the branch to see him better.
He paws at the necklace, then scoots back.
"Oh, no. You're not going to lure me out of this tree," Serena says. Besides the wolfsbane garden, it is the one safe place in the forest.
The creature emits a short whine, then scoots back even farther, and lays down on his belly. His ears twitch to the sounds around him and though he faces Serena, his eyes wander to the side.
Serena stands, studying the wolf's reaction. He barely seems to notice. She reaches above her, breaking off a stick as long as her arm. She throws it like a trident, so it sails over the distance separating them and lands nearby. The wolf looks at the stick, ears still twitching. His mouth hangs open and he pants, tongue lolling over the side. He looks more like one of the small dogs the Ungainly bring with them to the beach than a ferocious beast.
"You paint quite the deceiving picture," Serena says, hands on her hip. "But it won't work." The images of murderous werewolves in her books have made a permanent impression.
The wolf licks his nose again and snaps his mouth once, then twice. Finally he picks up the necklace and trots toward Serena's tree. Before he gets there, he turns, angling away. The wolf dips his head, then thrusts it toward Serena. The necklace flies out of his mouth, landing at the base of the tree. He looks at Serena one more time out of the corner of his eye, then disappears into the shrubbery, his wagging tail grazing over a patch of blooming purple flowers.
His steady footsteps fade in the distance, like he wants her to know exactly how far away he is. Without hesitation, Serena jumps down. In one smooth motion she grabs the necklace and leaps back to safety. Her heart rate doesn't even quicken until after she is back in the tree.
Wiping the slobber off the charm, she watches the shadows behind the bushes where the wolf disappeared. It's not the same one that chased me the night of the excursion, she thinks. That one had darker fur, almost black, and was much larger.
I will have to focus on this one when I come back. Serena freezes. When I come back. She is actually considering reliving this nightmare. She takes a deep breath and stands, replacing her mother's necklace around her neck. Which means I'll need to be better prepared.
She climbs the tree back to her nesting spot and picks up the trident.
I need to train.
She turns, spotting a dead branch on the next tree and aims for it. It hits wood, the trident's handle reverberating with the impact. Serena frowns, it isn't the exact spot she intended. She climbs through the trees, crossing over on the thickest branches to retrieve her spear. Spotting another dead branch, she tries again. A flock of birds take flight nearby as she misses, although her aim has improved. She switches hands often, practicing until the sun has moved across the span of the sky. She only aims for targets that won't impact the trees. She has seen too many Ungainlies scale redwood trunks with spikes in their shoes, a trail of bleeding holes left in their wake. Soon after, disease, insect infestation, and mold settle in. In many cases, the trees never recover.
By evening, both Serena’s speed and accuracy are much better, even as sore and tired as she is. Still high in the trees, she retracts much of her arm and shoulder armor to rub the affected areas. She longs for the cool, healing waters of the ocean. She can hear them now, beating against the shore and calling her name.
Now you want me back? She grits her teeth. One more night.
Serena looks into the sky, seeking the moon. It is just now gaining its light.
"Just you and me tonight," she says out loud, touching the charm on her necklace. "Hopefully."
The Rising Page 15