Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

soon as the thought occurred to her, she changed.
    She shook her head and tried to ignore the lingering itches and tingles the shift had left her. Tension caused her to yowl irritably at her bulky foe—between its noise and hers, they were going to have the entire keep out here soon. Not that it would be a bad thing to have a few more people to help with the howlaa.
    She and the wind demon paced back and forth, Aralorn keeping between the howlaa and its intended prey. That the howlaa didn’t just attack was a hopeful sign. She hadn’t been absolutely certain that howlaas were vulnerable to the poison of an icelynx bite, but the larger animal’s caution gave her hope. She was careful to avoid looking the howlaa in the eye, watching instead for the slight tensing of muscles that would presage a charge.
    She had no illusions about her chances for survival. Thank the gods, she thought, that Wolf can break Ridane’s bond if I happen to get my stupid self killed.
    Kisrah, who must have taken a safer route through a door, entered the courtyard wearing only a pair of light-colored sleeping pants. When he saw the howlaa, he stopped.
    “Aralorn. Which one are you?” he asked urgently.
    The sound of his voice seemed to release Gerem from the howlaa’s hold, but instead of running, he took two steps forward.
    Sensing Aralorn’s distraction, the howlaa chose that moment to close. It mewled as it ran, somehow a much more chilling sound than the roar of a bear or lion. Aralorn was forced to engage to keep it away from the two unarmed men.
    She tried to leap on the howlaa’s back again, but her weakened shoulder betrayed her, and she stumbled at the last minute, rolling frantically under the beast. She thought later that the stumble had saved her life, for the great jaws just missed closing on her back.
    Instead, the howlaa caught her with its paw instead, but it hadn’t had room to put much force behind the blow. It hurt, though, landing right on top of the bruises Falhart had left on her back that afternoon. The blow, relatively light as it was, sent her rolling farther under the howlaa.
    While the howlaa scrambled to back away, where its size and power better offset her speed, Aralorn used her claws on the icy ground to gain her feet, then launched herself at the nearest vulnerable place she could find. Her fangs sank through the heavy coat that protected its ribs and into the howlaa’s side.
    The howlaa shook itself wildly, trying to dislodge her, but it only succeeded in driving her teeth in deeper. Aralorn felt the throbbing of the glands beneath her eyeteeth as they pumped poison deep into the howlaa’s flesh. Unfortunately, it was too far from any major artery to kill swiftly.
    The howlaa was almost as fast as the icelynx, and ten times its weight; it was only luck that had allowed her to last this long against it.
    Even as the thought crossed her mind, the howlaa dropped to its side, crushing her beneath it. The weight of the howlaa kept her from breathing properly, and she grew dizzy with lack of air. A dull thud sounded in Aralorn’s ears, and the howlaa’s body heaved at the same time.
    With a shriek of rage, the howlaa came to its feet, but it didn’t move as swiftly as it had before—neither did Aralorn, for that matter. The wind demon’s cry was answered with a stallion’s high-pitched scream as Sheen, called by Aralorn’s whistle, attacked the howlaa again, teeth bared and front feet flying. Relentless and fearless, the stallion drove the creature away from Aralorn.
    On her feet again, Aralorn ran—or rather, hobbled—for her sword. She was glad that she’d been working with Halven, because she wasn’t altogether certain she could have shifted back to human form in the shape she was in without the extra potency that being better centered gave her. She’d done all the damage the lynx could manage; her right arm was too weak to maintain a four-footed attack. She hadn’t had time to take a close look at the damage the howlaa had done to her shoulder, and battle heat kept her from noticing the pain—but, considering the speed with which she had lost strength, she was afraid that it was worse than she had thought.
    Exhaustion washed over her in waves as she completed her fourth shift. She noticed, almost absently, that Kisrah was struggling with Gerem and that there were other people in the stableyard now. She took Ambris in her good left hand and turned back to the fight.
    A normal horse