Laurel
The howling invaded my head, my body, my heaving lungs, filling me with horror until I drowned.
“Make it stop,” I begged, but the wind stole my very breath.
Lightning lit the world and I screamed. The handsome warrior who held me turned into a monster with a scarred face—the left side still firm as a young, rugged man’s, the right melted like tallow left too close to a fire.
I clawed at the arms around me, broad and wickedly strong. I broke free, and fought backwards through the wind. And then—
The ground beneath my feet slipped away. The howling stopped. I fell, the wind rushing past me. Night had come, but some evil magic blotted out any moonlight. Someone was screaming, the voice sucked away into the void. My hands clawed at the darkness. Not even the stars would witness my
