Wolf Song (Wolf Singer Prophecies Book 1)

than Humans in the government and that they were dead set on eradicating the shifter population.
I shook, clasping my hand over my mouth.
I didn't know why or how he knew something was wrong, but he raised his head a moment, and then as if scenting the air, turned in place until he faced the door.
Perfect Cheekbones leaned into the door, bracing his hands on the threshold. It was like he was listening in. I held my breath.
"Are you there, ramina?" His voice had a touch of an exotic accent, as if English wasn’t his first language.
I felt the words more than heard them. Who in blazes did he think he was talking to?
"Is she there—?"
He held a finger to his full lips as a hush, followed by a hand gesture that I translated as "calm down."
"There's no need to fear,” Perfect Cheekbones assured me. “We will guard the door so that none can test these wards."
My eyes swiveled to the sigils glowing in the dark room. My father's rule never to open this door at night boomed in my mind. I never doubted the wards’ efficacy, but it was nice to have proof that they worked somehow in maintaining this place as a sanctuary.
"Dude, we have—"
The man with the blessed cheekbones turned to his compatriot and silenced him with a glare. They didn't look like they varied in build all that much, at least from what I could see through the peephole. But the other man definitely stepped back from that look.
I swallowed hard.
He was the Boss indeed, and he addressed me. "I am called Creed. You are safe now. Sleep well, ramina."
And with that he turned his back against the door, so that all I saw was that brand on his neck.
I didn’t know what had bothered me more: the fact that he spoke to me as if he knew me or the fact that he referred to me by some other name and I liked it?
Sleep well, he had said. Sleep well.
How in the hell was I supposed to sleep well when my heart was racing?
And yet...my eyelids were suddenly so heavy that I struggled against their weight.
From one blink to the next, I found myself staring at my bedroom ceiling. I sat up, discovering I was in my pajamas, tucked into bed, with daylight streaming through my windows.
I didn't remember going to bed, so how did I get here? What was the last thing I remembered?
The brand. The eyes. And the command to sleep.
Was that what happened?
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stayed in bed past sunrise. I'd always risen with the sun because daylight was so precious and I wanted to spend as much of it outdoors as possible. Not to mention the required maintenance of the farmhouse and surrounding wards.
But full sunshine streamed through the window. I crept along and looked outside and sure enough, the chickens were already tearing through the field, looking for grub.
Not even the roosters woke me.
I massaged the back of my neck to get the aches out. Shook it all off me like a bad dream.
I washed up, splashing cold water on my face in the closet bathroom just off the main bedroom. I still didn't feel like moving into what I considered my parents’ room. It felt like admitting that he wouldn't come back.
He would come back, though. I could feel it in my gut.
Survive.
I put on new clothes, tapped blessed oils on my pulse points and eyelids. Strapped the gun to my hip, hefted the scriptures under my arm, and I was ready to face the day.
It was on the second turn around the chicken yard that I thought to check the fences, just to prove to myself whether last night was a dream or not. All of my fences were solid. And if I hadn't been looking for it, I would have missed the little bit of new wire that adhered the fencing together.
Huh.
I pinched some words from scripture about mending fences and being strong. The coil of blue-black thread curled and looped together as the words turned into a binding spell that I threw on the fence. As the spell landed, it melded itself with the metal, oxidizing it to a blackened steel.
I waited until the scent of scorched metal and lightning dissipated before testing the new fencing’s strength. It flexed as it was supposed to, but it was stronger than ever. I might not have been the caliber of preacher my father was, but I was becoming a pretty decent word mage.
I hummed as I worked, blending the spirituals and the gospels my parents loved into randomly new songs as I forgot lyrics. It was a fun game, and kept me entertained as the gardens were weeded and the chicken coop was maintained. I decided that I’d earned my breakfast.
As I stood, a flicker of movement caught my eye from a ways up the mountain. I started to think I’d imagined it when in the distance, a boy no bigger than a pea bounded along among the tall grasses. What in the heck was he doing out there? Unprotected? Where were his folks?
He was in the complete opposite direction of where the town was, with its ring of blessed walls. Even in stark daylight, few people would think to walk out by themselves, let alone a child.
This boy was peculiar, and not because I couldn’t place him. He didn't seem like he was supposed to be playing up here. So what was he about?
I didn't bother to yell; there would be no way for him to hear or see me through the wards.
I shook my head. Maybe I could shoo him away and get him back toward his family.
I never had a sibling, though my parents had talked about having more kids, Before. Now the idea of bringing life into this new world was insane.
I went around front, to the main gates. It was better for the wards to think that there