Exile of the Wolf by Jesse Sprague EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Jesse Sprague
- Language: English
- Genre: Dark Fantasy Horror
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Banished. The word brought a harsh taste to Ziza’s mouth. She’d
thought to take the bitter medicine stoically—wasn’t she strong? In
practice, banishment was a foul poison that killed in an excruciating, slow
Across the border, on the Bouronian sands, two black nezwolves topped
a distant rise. The pack of blackriders who commanded them couldn’t be far
away. These were no wild beasts.
She ought to run.
Next to Ziza, her own nezwolf slunk from their campfire to press his
head against her shoulder as she crouched. The two stood, watching from
the relative security. With their backs to a large wheat field, the spot
provided modest cover, but that cover would not hold if the nezwolves
Her fingers dug into Enit’s black pelt. The nezwolf fidgeted and turned to
face Ziza, his mind thrumming with the desire to howl, to call out to his
compatriots. Despite appearing more akin to giant jackals than wolves,
nezwolves functioned with a pack mentality. A brush of Ziza’s mind to
remind Enit they were no longer part of the Bouronian pack kept the
How lucky those nezwolves were to run free on Bouronian soil—to
traipse over the sandy deserts and the shimmering oases of Ziza’s
homeland. They breathed the air and tasted the blood of the land.
“You wish to run to them; I feel it too, my loyal friend,” Ziza said,
stroking behind Enit’s large, pointed ears.
The energy of Bouraster licked over the border, moving inside her. It
called to her to use it, to twist the strands of power that tied her to her
homeland and create magic. Bouronian spells weren’t plentiful, but she
could shield herself from view. Unless the pack had a sorcerer with them,
and then there would be no better way to call attention to herself.
She shifted her feet, her toes edging that sacred line that differentiated the
golden sands of Bouraster from the rocky soil of Changleterre, the
meaningless nation in which she toiled. She felt Bouraster’s energy crossing
the divide to sing in her blood—pounding like the beat of a war drum,
calling to her to charge. Even if she closed her eyes, the divide was clearly
marked by the energy given to the lands by each country’s founding deity,
otherwise known as elors. And yet to take a single step more would only
earn her a dishonorable death.
Just over a furlong in the distance, the two nezwolves on the rise
continued to scamper forward, followed by five more. This time, riders
straddled them, enveloped in nezwolf-hide cloaks, carrying curved blades
and black-painted bows.
Only half a pack. The others would be nearby.
Enit’s voice rang in Ziza’s mind. ‘Banished. Should run
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