Halflings

Heather Burch

F
angs sank into Nikki Youngblood’s leg, setting her skin on fire. A scream gurgled in her throat, but she willed herself past trees smeared by her jarred vision. Her jacket snagged on a branch. No, no, no … She jerked free, casting a glimpse backward at the gnarled faces behind her. The lead beast stumbled over paws caked with mud. She seized the moment to widen the distance.

Run.
Her lungs burned.
Just keep running.

Her feet, now numb, thumped against the dense carpet of the forest floor. Once a place of security, a quiet sanctuary of solitude and escape, her woods had morphed into a house of terror complete with four grotesque dog-wolves tracking her every step.

Despite her years of martial arts, of seeing herself as tough and in control, Nikki was completely helpless. But that didn’t mean she had to die. Karate had taught her to stay calm in all manner of attack.
Though I don’t think this is what you had in mind, Sensei.

One minute she’s perched against a rock, drawing. The next, she’s running from … from …

She started to glance back, but stopped herself.
Concentrate on escape. Don’t concentrate on your enemy.

Besides, she didn’t even know what those dog-things were. But one thing was certain: they were out for blood and Nikki was an easy mark for the vicious beasts.

Exhaustion squeezed each muscle, depriving them of strength. Likewise, it pushed at her consciousness, promising failure. When she thought her lungs might literally burst, a momentary, blinding flash of light sparked above her, as if the universe were snapping a picture of her dilemma. Within seconds of the spark of light, a sound descended.
Church bells
? The reverberation of a thousand muted bells soothed her nerves and curled around her like a warm blanket after a nightmare. The unearthly noise filled her ears, a beautiful hum closing her in. But the tempo rose higher and higher until it caused the backs of her eyes to throb.

The dog-wolves began to moan. She glanced back — the four monsters had crumbled to the ground, their taut, muscled legs folding beneath them. One raked his head in the dirt and grass, his massive paw clawing brutally at his ear.
The sound.
Convulsing and groaning, their desperate plea to escape the melodic cry of the bells filled the air around her. Nikki took in short puffs, knees nearly buckling beneath her where she’d slid to a stop. The first flicker of relief tried to manifest, but Nikki knew she wasn’t out of trouble yet. Her mind reeled, searching for a feasible escape. But her eyes watered, causing her to press a flat palm to her temple where it throbbed from the wind song.

Wind song; that’s all she could think to call it. And right now — whether causing a killer migraine or not — anything
able to stop the ugly wolves ranked at the top of Nikki’s new favorite things list. The pain intensified, but she still kept her attention riveted on the wolves.
Were
they wolves? She still wasn’t sure. Each one was dark as a black hole, with hollow eyes she couldn’t seem to look into directly. When she forced herself to lock eyes with one of the beasts, a cold river of pure fear streaked down her spine as if the wolf seized her very soul, choking out life and leaving a tormenting void.

The creatures’ legs had folded and twisted into awkward positions, claws scraping at the ground, then at their ears.
Wait, that’s not mud on the dogs. It’s
…
dried blood.
Her eyes blurred, causing her sense of survival to kick in. Head still throbbing like a bass guitar at a concert and with one hand at the side of her face, she ran. Through the tree line she caught a glimpse of silver.
Yes! The gate to the football field.
She’d make it to the other side and this nightmare would be over.

Was it just a nightmare? Some indigestion-induced dream? She could have fallen asleep in the woods while she drew the picture of …

What had she been drawing? She couldn’t remember.

But this was no dream. She was awake. Awake and aware of the spongy grass collapsing beneath her feet, aware of the scent of moist pine hanging on the forest walls. Aware of the searing sensation in her calf where
the thing
had sunk its teeth.

Eyes fixed on the fence, she tried to take a breath but managed only tiny gasps.
Get to the gate
.
Just get to the gate
. As if the deserted football field on the other side could somehow offer safety. Four dog-wolf-things had chased her through a quarter of a mile of woods; why would five feet of chain link stop them? She pushed on, leaping over rotting tree roots protruding from the earth like the twisted fingers of a witch. She imagined her
legs getting tangled in the mass of vines, imagined the weathered roots reaching for her as she bounded past. Determination swept into her soul. With sickening certainty, Nikki knew she was racing for her life.

And more. Things, big things,
world changing
things factored into her circumstance. She didn’t know how she knew it. But she did. And for the first time in her seventeen years of life, Nikki felt a destiny awaiting her. Fear and dread careening in her soul, and deadly hounds at her back, Nikki felt alive.

“Raven, the song is hurting her too,” Mace said, anxiety creeping into his words as he peered over the rock ledge.

Raven scowled through his too-long bangs. “The Angel Song doesn’t hurt humans. It only affects the evil within.”

“Then you should be writhing on the ground with the hounds,” Mace mumbled.

Raven chuckled and sank his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Mace shifted his weight and slid his hands down his thighs. “It’s time to intervene.” If Raven thought he was going to torture this girl for fun, he was dead wrong. What made him think he was in charge, anyway? Just because he’d been on more journeys, and was the oldest of the three Lost Boys? So what. Experience didn’t make a capable leader. The best leaders were those who put the welfare of their soldiers before their own. Anyone who knew Raven knew he only looked out for himself.

Beside him, Mace felt Vine’s apprehension rise. For a quick moment, he closed off the noisy world and quieted his own soul, tuning into Vine’s heart rate. Mace’s gaze narrowed slightly as
he listened to the kid’s breathing pattern. Inhale. Exhale. All in check. Just first-time jitters.

Assured Vine was okay and ready for the fight, Mace’s gaze returned to the pretty teenage girl trying to escape a nightmare sent directly from the pit. Her name echoed in his head:
Nikki Youngblood.
He’d known her name instantly. They all had. One of the perks of being a Halfling. Her shoulders were narrow, arms thin, but looked tone beneath her snug windbreaker. A small, straight nose rested above full lips that remained parted as she panted with each pounding step. Large eyes stayed focused on the field before her. Maybe pretty was an understatement. There was something … captivating about her. It wasn’t her face. It wasn’t the long train of golden-brown hair that trailed behind her as she ran. It was her absolute tenacity to outrun her pursuers, her determination to survive. He’d watched grown men crumble at the sight of a single hell hound; she was chased by four. And
crumbling
didn’t seem to be in her list of options. She’d kicked free from the hound when it bit into her calf muscle, then with a limp bolted for the gate of the football field, and he could sense as well as smell her resolve. But a mere human girl against four hell hounds? Zero chance for survival there.

“Haven’t you seen enough?” Mace spat.

Raven gave a noncommittal shrug and finger-combed his hair away from his eyes. “What’s your rush?”

Mace glanced fifty feet below — first at the girl, then the hounds. “She’s terrified.”

“Yeah,” Vine agreed. “She looks really scared.”

Raven smiled, white teeth shining in the disappearing light. “So?”

“You’re a jerk.” Mace spread his arms and prepared to
descend. One of the benefits of being a Halfling: a fifty-foot drop was nothing. He snapped his wings open to swoop down, but before he could drop off the ledge something hit him square across the chest. Air whooshed from his lungs as he landed with a thud.

“She’ll see you,” Raven snapped. As he stared down at the girl, a surprising — almost tender — look crossed his face, only to be whisked away by his normal demeanor of cold detachment. But Mace had seen it, and the flash of compassion shocked him.

“You’re not in charge, Raven.” Mace said, rising from the rocky terrain. Once on his feet he dusted his rear end, partly to remove the dirt, partly to keep his hands busy so they wouldn’t ball into fists and pound Raven into the ground.

“Be patient.” Raven’s voice lowered to a purr.

Mace’s jaw clenched. He hated this part of an assignment. Yes, okay, sometimes it was important to let things play out a little, to not sail in and rescue too quickly. But the human side of Mace despised it. The angelic side of him … well, the more journeys he completed, the less human he felt. Just as well. It was a world out of reach, and he needed to remember that.

He knew Raven would only allow intervention at the last possible moment. Mace felt the short hairs on the back of his neck rise along with the anger crawling up his spine. “Why would we have been sent if we weren’t going to be utilized?”

Raven’s eyes flashed fascination. “Maybe just for entertainment?”