Watching Jenaveve release Cyndal, Rían lunged for the faerie, nearly jumping from the branch to grab her. Yet, his hand was two seconds too late and only swiping air by the time he was anywhere near her. Choking on shock, he gripped the sides of the tree, his claws scoring deep into the wood as he imagined what was happening to the poor rabbit púca as she plunged to the forest floor. I was too late! I didn’t save her!
Caught up in the terror, he barely made sense of Rory’s words when he heard him call out, “I got her!”
He’s got her? What did he mean?
Shifting to look down at his brother, who had one clawed hand pinned into the bark a few feet below him, with his other held out toward Cyndal. She was nowhere near Rory, nor did he have any physical hold on her, but his telekinetic powe
