Jackson wasn’t heartbroken; he was furious. And very frightened. The blood of the cassandra sangue was a danger to Others and humans alike. After taking in Hope, he’d heard that some of the terra indigene called the girls Namid’s creation, both wondrous and terrible.

Until now, he hadn’t thought of Hope as something terrible.

<Jackson?> several Wolves called, using the terra indigene’s form of communication.

<Stay out!> he ordered.

The girl herself didn’t smell like prey. None of the blood prophets did. But Hope’s blood! He’d never smelled anything quite like it, and he craved a taste of it.

Fear fueled his fury as he covered the distance between the doorway and the swaying girl. He swept up the razor she’d tossed aside. He was about to drop it on the desk when he noticed another drawing with Meg Corbyn’s name written in the bottom right corner. He set the razor away from the drawing, then turned to the girl.

Grace pulled off Hope’s nightshirt and pressed the wadded cloth against the wound, leaving the girl wearing nothing but panties.

“I needed the color,” Hope said, staring at the floor. “I needed...”

Jackson smacked the top of Hope’s head, eliciting a snarl from Grace. It wasn’t a hard smack, but it snapped the girl back from whatever she was seeing enough to focus on him.

“You have big teeth,” Hope whispered.

“They’re big so you’ll feel them when I bite you,” he growled, leaning closer. He wasn’t sure if there were other parts of him that wouldn’t pass for human. He didn’t care.

“Jackson,” Grace warned. <We need to get her to the human bodywalker at the Intuit village. The wound is still bleeding, and we can’t lick it to help it heal.> She hesitated. <And this is my first time dealing with an injury to a real human.>

<All right. Take her into the bathroom and put enough clothes on her that the humans won’t howl about it. I’ll clean up as much of the blood as I can.> He waited until Grace hustled Hope into the bathroom. Then he went to the window and opened the shutters, relieved to breathe in untainted air. Wolf faces peered at him through the screen.

<Jackson? Is the human pup hurt?>

<Yes. We need the small wagon to take her down to the Intuit village. She can’t walk that far.>

The faces disappeared. This terra indigene settlement didn’t own any horses or burros. When the Others needed such creatures, they rented them, along with the humans who would handle them. But they did have a small wagon that could be pulled by up to three individuals in human form and was mostly used when the Others went down to purchase human-made merchandise. It was big enough to hold Grace and Hope.