Chapter 77 Battle Field (2)

• FINNIAN
• Shouts, low and sharp, braided with ragged breathing. I heard men. I heard crying. I turned and saw some of my pack lingering at the edge, their faces pale, their hands clenched. I thought they had left. “Prince! Please fight back! Don’t die yet!” they murmured, like a prayer they did not mean.
• Then the ash wolf’s hand went flying. It was sudden like a clean, wet arc and blood spattered, bright and wrong against the gray night. He howled. The sound tore through whatever numbness had been wrapping me.