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She closed her eyes against the burning tears, and let him go. Damon beat his wings against the wind and grabbed up Wreck’s body. He lifted into the air and went east.
When he was nearly out of sight, he dove down and seemed to disappear in the trees, then lifted back up. He repeated that over and over as the others gathered in the clearing.
“What’s he doing?” Timber asked numbly.
“He’s trying to feed him ash,” Corey said, wrapping her arms around her.
Her heart was broken. Such pain should not exist in a person’s soul. She pointed to some of the attackers, slinkingaway. “They should not be allowed to live. They should not get away with this.”
“They won’t,” Corey assured her. “They won’t make it out of the territory. Listen.”
Her ears caught the sound of police sirens down toward the main road.
“They’ll be picked up,” Corey told her. “If they’re lucky, they’ll go to the shifter prisons where we can’t reach them. If the police let them go?” She arched her eyebrows, and Timber understood. Those that needed to take vengeance could take it. Either they would go to shifter prison, or they would be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives.
In the sky, she could barely make out the silhouette of Damon dipping down to drag Wreck through ashes again.
Corey hugged her tighter, and Timber melted into her arms and fell apart, just…sobbing. Around the territory, in a large circle, the dragon was dipping Wreck down and dragging him through ashes, and there were others crying around them. The grass had grown two feet tall now, and wildflowers peppered the ground.
His last act was to make it beautiful here.
The others began gathering close and touching her, but nothing could put her broken pieces back together except Wreck.
Nothing except Josiah.
“Bring him to me!” someone yelled from the edge of the blossoming trees.
It was Riyah. She was coming through the trees with Lucia, and a man Timber didn’t recognize. He was older, with brown hair and bright-green eyes. He walked with a limp.
“Beaston,” Corey whispered.
“Damon,” Beaston called to the sky. “Bring him to me.”
“Everyone, come here,” Riyah ordered, gesturing for the gathering masses to meet in the middle of the clearing. “I need everyone touching his mate. Everyone touch Timber, or touch someone touching her.”
A hand pressed to her back, and then another. Another hand touched her arm, and another. The back of her head was touched as Lucia came to kneel on one side of her, and Riyah on the other. Riyah was crying. “I’m going to try. You have to do your part.”
“What’s my part?” Timber gasped out, voice hitching.
“You’re the side of him that heals,” Lucia murmured, holding her hand tight. “I can see it. He isn’t the green flames.” Her voice hitched. “Youare.”
Gunner stepped forward and held out his arms. He caught Wreck as the dragon dropped him close to the ground. Wreck was covered in ashes, and was barely recognizable.
Gunner looked heartbroken as he knelt and set Wreck’s body in front of Timber. “No matter what, it has been an honor to have him in my Crew.”
She could see it in his eyes. They were full of hopelessness. He didn’t believe this would work.
Timber didn’t know what to think as Riyah pulled her hand to Wreck’s cold body and began to say something under her breath in a language she didn’t recognize.
A few more lines, and a tingling began inside of Timber. It started in her middle, and then the buzzing sensation spread outward. She pursed her lips and concentrated on her hand, pressed to Wreck’s chest, right over his still heart.
Please. Let him live. He is good. Let him live.
Riyah started her chant over, and Timber squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating as she said her own words in her mind.Please. Please, please, please. Let him come back to me.
Time dragged as Riyah chanted, and everyone was so quiet. The weight of everyone’s hope was like a blanket over the clearing. Above them, Damon and Vyr were circling. Waiting.
Come on. Come on, Josiah. Come back to me.
