And so Barclay writhed the best he could beneath the Ischray’s grasp—for Root’s sake as well as his own. Nevertheless, Soren cut with a steady hand, like he’d done this before. It scared Barclay to think that if he was left in the snow, he might never be found.

Unfortunately, the only two abilities Barclay could manage—running fast and summoning wind—were impossible without the use of his legs or arms. Which meant he’d have to think of something else to do, and quickly.

It was Soren himself who’d told Barclay what Lufthunds were capable of, when they’d first met at the Bog’s Inn.

Apart from flying Beasts, they are the fastest species in the world. They’ve been known to dissolve completely into wind. Their howls can conjure storms.

As Root moaned louder from beneath the Nitney, Barclay looked up into the sky, into its endless stretch of gray and white, and he howled. The sound of it seemed to come from his very core. From the place inside of him that loved unearthing a mushroom from fresh, damp soil. That kept his hair long to better feel the wind in it. That didn’t like anything as much as running—running and knowing no one could catch him.

His howl did nothing to change the storm, and Soren let out a strained laugh. “Did you think your own howls had power?”

“No,” answered Barclay, “but Root’s do.”

As though in response, Root let out a howl of his own. Barclay felt it inside of him, echoing around his ribs, thumping against his heart. It shook its way up the trees and into the sky, and the sky answered.

The winds, already fierce, picked up speed. Their sound was a roar too. Thunder and lightning cracked above, and the flurries of snow transformed into shards of hail.

The gusts grew stronger and stronger. The Ischray quickly dispersed somewhere deep in the Woods, and the Nitney was blown against the trunk of a tree. Soren let out a curse, muffled in the noise of it all, as Barclay tore free from his grasp.

Barclay stumbled back, his eyes squeezed shut against the ice and wind. Without his coat, he was so cold, he felt numb all over. He peeled one eye open in time to see Root staggering to his feet. His dark eyes met Barclay’s own.

Just as Soren lunged forward to grab Barclay, he ran.

And when Barclay ran, Root followed.

The snow that had slowed him down before no longer bothered him. His legs moved so fast, they merely seemed to skim the ground. The trees flew past in a dark blur. Everything was so brutally strong—the wind, the hail, the speed—that Barclay quickly lost his balance. He grabbed onto a fistful of Root’s fur to steady himself. And when Root offered no disagreement, Barclay hoisted himself over Root’s back and hugged his arms around the Beast’s neck.

In that moment, the wind slowed to barely a tickle against his skin. Then to nothing at all.