Page 78 of The Filigree Key

The magic oak tree contracted, and two cracking bolts of green magic shot each mallaithe. The fae hunting trees merely dove deeper and let the violent water dissipate the strikes.

Still running along the river’s edge, I slammed a glowing fist against one autumn olive tree and then another. The roots of these fast-growing invasive trees shot out into the water, weaving tighter and faster than Shari with her crochet hook and an energy drink. The ends of their net skewered the red clay of the far bank and screwed in tight.

The tomcat bobbed over the top of the net like a cork, paddling frantically to keep his head above water. “Manus . . . dilitare!” His paws tripled in size, the webbing between his toes catching the water and finally directing his swimming.

A wave sluiced him back under only a second later—the mallaithe crashing into the root net.

The water jumped as the fae hunting trees launched their tentacles after the cat. There was a shrill scream, followed by another, and then the river began to froth and foam as the mallaithe realized the weave of the autumn olive trees was no simple net.

Its myriad questing roots lunged for the mallaithe, tangling and ensnaring. The fae hunting trees thrashed, bludgeoning holes and ripping away the weave. Fueled by my magic, the roots knitted fresh patches into the net and shot after their attackers.

With the mallaithe stymied by the living net, I took advantage of the respite and charged for the bend in the river where it widened and slowed. There was another pebbled beach there, the last one for a while before the river narrowed once more and cut through the hills. It was my best chance to pluck the cat out of the water before he drowned.

The magic oak tree pulsed with light and intent, roots green and heart red, flooding me with every ounce of power available. There was no holding back now, not when one of the creatures I loved best in this world was in peril. With every sprinting footfall, the magic I was supposed to keep hidden from Ossian revealed itself.

Trees literally shuttled out of my way. The earth sucked down the rocks and smoothed so I wouldn’t stumble. Brambles bowed to the side instead of plucking after my clothes. Branches lifted so I wouldn’t smack my head or bang my shoulders. If I left a trail of flowers and ferns growing in the imprints of my footsteps, I didn’t know. My focus was on that tabby tomcat.

Sawyer’s head was above the water again, his massive paws aiding his fight against the pull of the current as he swam towards the pebbled beach. The poor cat was exhausted and desperate, his amber eyes slitted in concentration.

I shot out another vine as I ran down the last hill. The black walnut at the hill’s base bent, offering me its branch. The coarse bark bit into my feet, but they healed as the branch launched me into the air. My dress flew into my face and my cowl shot back to tangle in my braid; I ripped the clothes aside to keep sight of the cat. The tie keeping my hair in an orderly plait was torn free, and my long brown hair streamed out behind me like a banner.

Upstream, there was a frightful crack like a dam breaking loose, but then water was splashing up to my ears as I landed in the river. With a flick of my wrist, I redirected the vine towards Sawyer. “I’ve got you, kit—”

Water flooded my mouth as a mallaithe barreled right into my stomach and drove me under.

Magic burst from every pore. The fae hunting tree shrieked as its tentacles sizzled underwater, curtains of ocher bubbles rising to the surface. With a fierce kick, I fought free and gasped in a lungful of air. The mallaithe screeched, circling like a shark as it considered its next attack.

Sawyer was still paddling, but the second mallaithe had finally freed itself from the net. It leapt from the river, evading the last-ditch effort of the autumn olives’ roots to capture it. The monster resembled a child, younger than the youth I’d fought in the foraging valley. Its trunk was no taller than a toddler, but the tentacle roots that extended past the hem of its dress were easily six feet long. The growth rate of these creatures was astounding.

Were they venomous freshly sprouted just as vipers were freshly hatched?

I couldn’t save Sawyer if he was bitten—I hadn’t even been able to save myself.

A rush of water jerked my focus away from the incoming mallaithe. The first fae hunting tree torpedoed towards me in a bold head-on attack. It was a foolish gamble, but it was young.

Ripping off my leather cuffs, I summoned my battle magic. In less than a second, thorny vines so dark a green they were almost black wreathed up my arms. In the undulating reflection of the water, I watched my eyes go dark, the ivy-green color of my irises flooding pupil and sclera. The same dark hue blackened my fingernails, the rounded edges lengthening into points. Brown hair hung in long wavy tresses that swirled in the eddies of the water like spilled ink.

I no longer saw myself in that reflection. I saw Violet.

The mallaithe put on a burst of speed. Crouching, I raised both hands, ready to catch it like a catfish and hurl it onto the bank behind me so it could die out in the sun away from its precious water. Away from my Sawyer.

Abruptly the fae hunting tree changed course, arcing back around. A slice of water obscured my vision, then a wall of scorched and blistered tentacles clobbered me straight in the chest. My battle magic absorbed most of the blow, simultaneously ricocheting the fae hunting tree clear across the river even as I was blasted out onto the bank.

I sprawled on my back for only a moment before I scrambled upright onto my hands and knees.

Both mallaithe arrowed straight for the easier prey still in the water.

“Meadow,” Sawyer yowled.

“No!” I roared, reaching for him.

My hand slammed into the shallows, and blue veins sprang to life along the magic oak tree’s trunk.

This wasn’t a town I was defending. This wasn’t a fancy fae key I was trying to charge.

This was Sawyer Blackfoot. My goofball kitten. A little creature who had given me his trust and his love. His bravery. His loyalty. His friendship when I’d needed it most in the world, when I was lost and afraid and teetering on the edge of despair.

That little cat had saved me more than once.