Excerpt: Harrier's Talon

The touch on her cheek drew her out of unconsciousness. Damp, warm – just a fleeting contact that pierced the haze of her mind, drawing her back towards the waking world.

Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Light, bright and painful, was all she could remember. A low groan rose from her throat of its own accord.

She was ... cold, she thought. There was no distinct sensation of chill in her limbs, but they were stiff and unresponsive. She felt them only as dead weight, somewhere splayed out to either side. Her muscles felt weak, beyond even the ability to tremble or shiver. The motion of her own chest, which she could barely sense, seemed labored.
Perhaps, she thought, it would be worth ... slipping back for a while... back into the comfort and the dark. Surely, wherever she was, it would be easier to rouse herself after a little more rest—

No! You must live!

The words had come from outside of her, but she could still hear nothing. She took a moment to ponder them, and more came.

If you fall back, you will never wake again. You must live!

She framed a question in her head, the beginnings of Why?

Remember—

The words cut off, but the urgency remained behind. Bracing herself for the light and pain, she opened her eyes again.

Somehow, it was not quite so difficult this time, although everything was blurred and indistinct. She could see pink, though; the color of a clear sky, above her. No clouds. The edge of the sun peeked into her vision, swollen and red. There was nothing else, but a shape leaning over her – she tried to resolve it—

Teeth. Many, many teeth. A muzzle longer than her hand. White fur, two perked ears, and eyes. Golden eyes, a predator's gaze, intent on the prey underneath it. Intent on her.

Its jaws opened, and it leaned in.

A hoarse, croaking cry sounded nearby. Something struck the northern wolf's head – an arm? A blur of scale-male and gauntlet hit, pushing the jaws away from her throat.
The wolf gave a startled yelp, and danced backwards, out of her vision.

Warmth spread to her limbs – not much, but enough to bring a vague awareness of their position. It was only then that she realized it had been her arm striking the wolf. Encouraged, she lowered the same arm to her side, then pressed upwards. Had to sit up, had to get ready, in case it came back for her...

There was pressure holding her, some weight across her body that restrained her. Another wolf? Panic rose in her; she couldn't even see her chest or legs! The surge of urgency gave her strength, and she pushed again. Cracks and tinkles accompanied the surge, and she wrenched herself up to a crude sitting position, braced by her arms behind her back.

The wolf stared at her nearby, the hackles on its neck raised and a low growl in its throat. She spared a moment to wonder why it wasn't attacking again – had something disturbed it? But that wasn't important. She needed to know where she was – what had happened. How she could get out of this mess, and get somewhere warm.

She turned her head with an effort, casting her gaze around the area. Now she understood why it was so bright. Snow covered the ground – and ice as well, or sleet, marked by the glittering crust on top. Open country was around her, although her eyes could make out a blur of shapes near the horizon, probably trees. Memory stirred inside her... they were trees, she'd been there—

The wolf stopped growling and cast his gaze behind her. She twisted her head.
Four more northies trotted over the rise, their muzzles and chests red with blood from a fresh kill.