Free The Dark of Twilight (Twilight Shifters Book 1) by Kate Danley Page A

squirrel or a rabbit, she whispered to herself.  But she knew it was not.
    She did not even bother to look and see what was stalking her.  She dropped her sword and scrambled up the trunk of the closest tree.  She felt the jaws of the wolf clamp down onto her boot.  She felt its teeth bite through the hardened leather.  She wrapped her arms around the tree branch and kicked.  She connected, knocking the werewolf in the nose.  It made him release to try and grab her other foot.
    But that moment of distraction was all she needed.  She swung her legs up.  The werewolf snapped at her, leaping into the air, his teeth inches from her back.  Her arrows fell out of her quiver and spilled onto the ground.
    She tightened her grip and gradually was able to work her way around the branch until she was finally on top of it.  She paused, holding tight as she glanced up.  The werewolf was now trying to use the trunk of the tree to propel himself higher.  She had to climb.
    Or she could allow herself to die, the voice inside her head whispered, and then she would not have to fight anymore.
    The tip of the wolf's whiskers grazed her hand.  She could see in his eyes he had figured out how close that had been, too.  She silenced the voice.  She had made a promise to Princess Gisla she still needed to fulfill. 
    She pushed herself up, balancing on the branch.  She gripped the trunk and looked for the next handhold.  The tree shook as the wolf hit it again.  And then the tree shook and the bough bent.  She hugged the trunk for dear life.  The wolf had reached the branch.  He was too heavy and it sagged beneath his weight.  He could not hold on and it went flying as he fell off.  Leaves and twigs sprayed her.  Her feet scrambled to push her higher.  The next branch was above her.  She reached for it.  It didn't look strong enough to hold her but it was her only choice.  The branch she was on bent once more, and this time, there was a great cracking sound as the wolf tore it from the tree, leaving her dangling in thin air.
    Her fingertips slipped and she fell.
    She slammed into the ground, her ankle twisting painfully.  Her sword was where she dropped it, far from reach.  She could not run.  She could not fight.  She cowered as the werewolf crept towards her, his teeth snapping and snarling the air. 
    Closer he came.  Closer.
    So this was how it ended for the two guards in the swamp, she thought.  This was how she left Lars to die.
    And then, suddenly, the wolf stopped.
    His eyes became cloudy.  His face became passive.  He fell on his side as if in great pain.  He whimpered and cried as he writhed on the ground.  Aein looked up at the sky, now painted with great swaths of pinks and gold and realized what was happening.
    The figure began to fade until nothing was left but the body of a man, one who had kept her alive the first night.
    "Finn?" she whispered, kneeling down beside him and gathering his head into her lap.
    He writhed again in pain as the last of the wolf left and only the man remained.  He looked up at her.  His yellow eyes faded into blue.
    "Where am I?" he asked.
    "You're safe," she said, smoothing his forehead.  "I have you and you are safe."
    "I had the most terrible dream," he said.  "I dreamt I was chasing people.  The entire dream was filled with fear and terror.  The images..."
    She did not know if it would be cruel or kind to tell him the dream was not a dream.  Was it better to let these werewolves know what they were up to when the moment of shift happened?  Or better to let them live in blissful ignorance?  There was nothing they could do to change their actions, only live plagued by what they become when the change came each day.
    He looked over at his arm and then sat up.  He unwrapped the bandage that had been placed upon the great bite wound earlier that day.  Beneath it, his skin was clear and soft without a mark.
    "How did I heal?" he asked, staring at her with