Uncaged by Alisha Paige Page B

stepped into the back of the wagon and stomped toward her. Her shivering turned to violent spasms of fear. The bee stings were forgotten when he kicked at her boot and bent to unlock her shackles.
                  “Get up, witch!”
                  Wren stood on shaking legs, anxious to be anywhere other than the freezing wagon. She stumbled when he pushed her forward. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. The last rays of golden light were fading fast, dipping away into the purple horizon as a monstrous clap of thunder echoed. She jumped at the sound.
                  “Get a move on, witch!” the man bellowed as he pushed her off the wagon and onto the wet ground.
                  Wren’s legs crumbled beneath her. She was starving and still not recovered from her blood loss. Her ankles were still chained, making walking difficult while her captor kicked at her heels and pushed her shoulders with a heavy hand. Wren cried out when she nearly fell again.
                  “Don’t play all helpless with me, witch! I know you’d just as soon turn me to a rat!”
                  Wren noticed an old barn and suspected they were stopping to wait out the storm. The man pulled open the heavy doors and pushed her forward. Wren pitched forward, unable to keep her balance when she stumbled over a stone. Her legs lay outside of the doorway, covered in mud. The man kicked them inside and ignored Wren’s screams of agony when he pulled the doors shut. He pulled her by her hair and deposited her against a wooden beam where he re-shackled her hands.
                  The barn was pitch black inside except for a stream of light comin g from a few missing planks. The man plopped down on a square of hay across from her. Wren began whimpering softly.
                  “Shut up, you bloody witch!”
                  Wren stifled another sob and swallowed. Rich, thick bile stung the back of her throat as a wave of nausea rolled over her, heating her from within. She gasped for air and hiccupped.
                  “Stop your bloody crying!” the man roared.
                  Wren shuddered as she clamped her mouth down tight. Her teeth chattered and she ground them together. Another loud hiccup escaped her and then the man stood, towering over her.
                  “I warned you!” he spat as he landed a hard fist into her face, stopping the cold and the fear instantly.
     
    ~*~
                  Bruce gathered every available shiftie in and around the tavern before going after Wren and her captors. He found her scent right away and shifted along with a hoard of other shifties just outside of town. Swift feet carried them through the woods, close to the road. Birds thick as tar lighted from the trees, fearful of the odd assortment of wild animals stampeding beneath their nests.              
                  Behind the lion ran two leopards, three panthers, four wolves, a two headed jackal-the Siamese twin Grimm brothers, two owls and one hawk took up the rear. Bruce guessed they were maybe thirty minutes behind Wren’s captors when the first roll of thunder echoed off the mighty oaks that he dodged like a runner in an obstacle course. Bruce ignored the gamey scent of buck that flamed into his nostrils, reminding him of his hunger. He shook his head and journeyed onward as the other animals followed like stealthy hunters on whispery feet.
                  A half mile away, a giant crack of lightning split a tree in two. The smell of burning wood filtered through the trees and then the rain came. It fell in torrents, fast and furious, parting the lion’s mane down the center, leaving two thick, drenched knots of fur on either side of his proud face. He shook the water off, restoring his mane to it’s natural fluff in an instant. The cold wind blew into his