Free The Beast by Lindsay Mead

generally brought with it a cold so strong it touched her bones. It also somehow made their earpieces sing and cut off all communications.
    Tiny ice crystals began to form over the nearby trees. There was a soft crackling as frost flowers spread over her reins, reaching toward her fingers. As the ear chip sang to her, Belle held up her hand and watched as the rime blossomed on her leather glove. The intricate design was beautiful.
    White fog rolled around her like a cloud of ice dust. Within seconds, she was engulfed and her visibility was reduced to mere feet. Turning Charming, she had to retrace her steps and join her men.
    Panting sounds alerted Belle. Among the trees, a blur of brown appeared and disappeared as a hellhound raced past. It was circling her. Making things worse, it had the advantage with its predatory sense of smell and hearing.
    A growl came from in front of her. Belle’s breath caught as her eyes just made out the faint silhouette of a stalking hellhound. More growls followed. It wasn’t alone and they stood between her and her men. Belle held up her revolver, prepared to shoot if one pounced.
    A frosted vine curled around her barrel, covering the engraved shooting star. Charming’s steamy breath vanished into the thick fog. Belle shook her head. It was folly to try and fight with this kind of visibility. She patted her pocket, as she turned Charming northward, making sure Henri’s watch was secure. They were going to make a blind dash and she didn’t want to lose it.
    “Yah!” Charming leapt into a gallop.
    Belle leaned into the Friesian, giving him the rein he needed to run. The hellhounds were gaining ground fast, their snarls and snaps growing louder as they closed in. Trusting in her Friesian to stay the course, Belle let go of her reins and aimed behind her. Unfortunately, the hounds weren’t keeping a steady pace. They zig-zagged around each other, dropping back and then drawing closer. It was like they were using the fog, letting it hide them just long enough that she couldn’t fire.
    A howl called Belle’s attention back to the road ahead. A new hellhound was on the approach. Charming couldn’t slow though. If he did, they’d be overtaken by the pack. Belle swore and aimed, ready to stop the charging hound.
    A branch blocked her gun’s sight—en route to knock her out of the saddle. Belle gasped, flinging her left leg over the saddle’s front swell and dropped to the side of the horse. With one foot in the stirrup and one hand grasping the saddle horn, she aimed for the lead hellhound. The low branch swept over Charming, touching his ears, and Belle fired.
    The hound yipped once, then plunged into the snow. Charming drifted too close to the road’s edge, avoiding the dead hound. Belle thrust herself back against his body, her right arm extending out behind her. A passing tree grazed her cheek with its rough bark. Belle breathed out and fired at one of the hounds behind her. He dropped, making the one behind him stumble.
Four bullets left
.
    With a bit of muscle and some fancy footwork, Belle swung herself back up into the saddle. The fog was less dense now. Even her ear chip’s singing was quieter. They were almost out of the ice fog. Belle breathed a bit easier, confidence filling her.
    Up ahead, A fallen tree cut off the path. It was big and old, taken down by the heaps of snow piled on from some past storm. Quickly Belle fired behind her, but the hellhounds swerved. The bullet tunneled into the snow instead.
Three left
.
    Gritting her teeth, Belle faced forward and leaned into Charming. She grabbed hold of his mane, kneading her knuckles into his neck, and asked for more speed. He responded and charged the tree. She positioned her body correctly, feeling the stallion’s muscles beginning to gather. At just the right second, Charming leapt. For a moment, horse and rider sailed through the air together. Then Charming’s hooves connected with the ground, bringing them smoothly