It was hard going. The slopes were little more than unstable scree and broken rock, and in the darkness it was almost impossible to be certain of a good footing. There were no stars, and a blanket of heavy cloud hid the twin moons. The only point of reference was the flickering firelight above, growing closer with each uncertain step. Ulthric’s body was in mounting agony, the pain of his injuries becoming more apparent as the night’s cold ate into his bones. As they climbed he wondered whether the only reason Saarl had chosen him was because if he’d been left behind Vega may have finished what he’d started. He felt shamed and angry, as much with himself as with the rest of the pack – he’d sworn he would not lose control again. True, the full shift hadn’t occurred, but it had been close. He had felt the wild savagery of the beast just below his skin, fighting to be free. He could feel it now, that accursed itch set off by the prospect of bloodshed. The beast within was sullen, biding its time.
An excerpt from Robbie MacNiven's Werekynd - Beasts of the Tanglewild. Universal fantasy tale of half-beasts and humans struggle for domination in the ancient forest of Tanglewild.
