The Pawn and The Puppet (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 1)

I follow him up the path where the red oaks begin again. He grips my hand and keeps me close behind him.

“Dessin, what’s happening—”

He stops in his tracks as the beast I haven’t thought about in some time stands before him. The RottWeilen that saved me in the winter forest. I remember the reddish-brown eyes that glowed in the white snow.

“Keep walking,” he instructs. But I’m not listening to him anymore. I walk around him, crouching at eye level with the mass of black and red fur. The animal watches me cautiously. But there’s a pull as if I’m connected to a fishhook, an alignment in my chest. A surge of déjà vu again.

“Skylenna…” Dessin warns.

“It’s okay,” I say. “He won’t hurt me.” In a cosmic daze, unmindful of consequence and acting on pure instinct—I reach my hand out, slowly, inching closer to the beast’s head, staring into his fiery eyes. I hold my breath, and the animal pushes his face against my hand, rubbing the top of his snout against me.

I let out a laugh in relief, looking up at Dessin like a child.

“Are you seeing this?!” I rub my hands over the back of his neck and scratch. He bows his head while he leans into my chest. My shoulders shake with more surprised laughter as I choke on gasps and am covered head to toe with chills.

“DaiSzek, where are they coming from?” Dessin barks.

The great wolf growls and throws his head in the direction of the north.

“Let’s go,” he commands.

Wait. Does he know this animal? Am I losing my mind?

“Now, Skylenna.”

I stand up, unable to look away from his distressed face.

“You named him? Does he belong to you?!”

I jog to keep up with his pace as we descend the dark path we arrived on.

“He doesn’t belong to anyone.”

We are stopped again by an obstacle standing between us and his motorcycle.

Two people.

A young woman and young man, looking close to our age. In the moonlight, I can see her auburn hair and her smooth, tan skin. The man is much taller than her, with a lean frame and wild black hair, down to his shoulders. They looked just as shocked to see us as we are to see them. The man looks at the woman and back at us.

“What’s your business here, friend?” Dessin speaks to the man. The man looks at the woman again, who looks as though she might pass out. He readjusts his focus back on Dessin.

“Going for a late-night hike, sir. How about the two of you?” He glances over at me and then darts his eyes to the ground. This creates suspicion in Dessin. I can sense him straighten up beside me.

“Mhm, yes, I can see that. Tell me, is hiking in a ball gown and tuxedo a new trend I’m unaware of?” Dessin’s eyes grow hard and cold in the moonlight spilling through the holes in the trees. How did I miss that? Why are they dressed up like they’re coming from a ball? My spine goes rigid, and suddenly I’m glad I’m standing behind him.

The man with the curly dark hair looks back at the woman for help. She says nothing. She merely stares at Dessin, eyes wide as if she knows who he is—what he’s capable of. Before I can close my eyes to blink, Dessin charges the man and pins him to a tree by his throat. His feet dangle, toes grazing the dirt as he kicks.

“Who are you?!” he growls.

The man chokes to try and get his words out, but nothing happens.

“We came to have sex in the woods!” The auburn-haired woman screams at Dessin. She’s panting, and her eyes are glossy with tears. “Leave him alone! We just wanted privacy away from my parents!”

Dessin looks back at her and then back at the man. Still unsure, still suspicious. Reluctantly, he lowers him to the ground.

“You’re too young to get caught in this world,” Dessin says to the couple but aims his glare at the woman. “I will spare your lives once. Do not run into me a second time.”