PrologueA BROKEN CHAIN

“Keep up, orthey’ll catch you!” the grey wolf barked.
Swiftstorm followed the voice ahead of her, wincing at thepain exploding through every paw. Despite exhaustion and discomfort hinderingher resolve, she darted through the malformed pines and jumped overoutstretched roots, matching the speed of her leading partner. The savagelaughter behind them provoked a chill and stiffened her hackles. The exileswere getting closer.
“I wasn’t exactly planning on stopping,” Swiftstorm huffed,legs numb from sprinting as the stuffy air denied her the comfort of a completebreath. “But thanks for the reminder, Greyhail.”
Greyhail craned his head over his shoulder to smirk at her,his eyes like amber sunsets too deep and too flawless for the scarred face theycontrasted. “Had to make sure your focus was on the appropriate thing,” he grunted,panting away his fatigue. “You always get distracted whenever you’re near mefor some reason. Must be my good looks, eh?”
Heat seeped into Swiftstorm’s cheeks, but she forced herselfto scowl until he turned around. “Ugh… you’re so hopeless.” She tried to hide acreeping smile.
“Not as hopeless as the situation we’re in,” he snorted.
The remaining stars glimmered defiantly against thethickening clouds, but like the moon before them, the shadow smothered theirlight. Raspy voices cheered at the triumphant darkness, and the evergreensgroaned and twisted in place, their roots below coming alive.
“Look out!” Swiftstorm yelped.
One of the roots tripped her partner, and he smacked hismuzzle on the frozen ground. Before he could get up, tendrils of wood explodedout of the soil and entangled him like snakes coiling an unsuspecting rat. Hethrashed and wriggled, but the choking prison never softened its assault.Slowly, the tendrils began to decay, emitting an odor foul enough to sickeneven a vulture’s stomach. They dragged him low and ignored his struggle.
Swiftstorm’s nostrils curled. She blocked her nose andforced her mouth to suffer the unclean air instead. Even so, the sickeningstench soured her tongue and wrenched her gut. “Greyhail!” She skidded to a standstillbeside him.
“Argh!” Greyhail yowled, biting at his confines in betweenheaves. “Get them off!”
“Quit moving!” She braced herself and tore at the rottingroots, spitting and swallowing so the bile never escaped beyond her parchedgullet.
“Quit moving?! Really?!” Greyhail’s forelegs broke free.”Oh, sure. I’ll just relax while these roots BURY ME ALIVE!”
“Oh, be quiet, you bug-brained buffoon!” Swiftstorm growled,using her quick claws to sever the stubborn tendrils. She grabbed her partnerby the scruff and helped him up. “Try not to embarrass yourself like thatagain. I’m getting tired of saving your sorry backside.”
“Consider my sorry backside eternally grateful.” Greyhailcoughed and gave her a thankful nuzzle before stepping away from the writhingroots. “I definitely owe you the fattest prey I can sniff out.”
Swiftstorm snorted and nudged him on the cheek. “For all thetimes I yanked your tail out of trouble, you owe me much more than a singlemeal.”
The ceaseless barking of their pursuers reminded her of thedanger they were in.
Ugh, to think this was supposed to be a simplescouting mission to see what the exiles were up to. It looks like we’ve managedto attract the attention of every faithless mongrel in the entire Furtherlandsinstead! Some scouts we are.
Greyhail gave her a funny look before turning toward theirdestination. “I’ll think of a fitting reward after we’re safe in one of thecozy caves of the Great Chain. Deal?”
“Deal.” Swiftstorm nosed him on the snout.