Up above the trees, Fenn spotted the toothed brow of a castle.

Bent against the winds, he stopped. He squinted. Somehow, the looming shapes seemed familiar to him. He was fairly certain these were close to the faerie-ring Banrion had shown him in his dream; that they had been in the background of the glimpse of forest he had caught, within the confines of the silver pool. Certainly, they looked a sturdy place to rest himself while the tornado passed. Silently chortling to himself, Fenn trudged through the wavering winds toward its lonely shadow. It was a struggle to keep on his feet. The weather was picking up, now tearing small branches off of trees, causing him to stumble and slide through the mud and needles. In the first instant that he hit the rugged rock path leading up to the fortification, he took off. Coarse rocks made better purchase for his hoary toes.

The air’s resistance against him diminished as he found his way into the castle’s vast entryway. It was a bit of a grand entrance, but in heavy disrepair.

Chunks of stone crumbled off of the elaborate engravings etched into the stone frame of the doors. Fenn would have had a great deal of difficulty forcing them open, but for a section where the nails had rusted out of their thick planks. With a weary shove, they were foist from their holdings, falling inward with a crack and a plume of dust. Panting, Fenn squeezed inside. What he found was a vast and empty hall. There was little in the way of furniture, and everything in the way of cracked columns. The boy’s dragging steps vibrated in the dead stone. There was, in fact, one aspect of the place that was not bare rock. The old-fashioned windows were veiled by heavy grey drapes, their greasy silks keeping the pine-rot out but not the boring of white moths. Glancing outside, through one of the insect-eaten holes, Fenn observed the castle’s courtyard from his position of relative safety. Outside the glass was a garden that might have once been primly trimmed. Now, it was a sea of rippling ivy, and wildflowers being shredded by hungry gales.

This was an abandoned place. A hesitance filled the fae as he glanced back into his temporary, impersonal shelter, prickly snowflakes popping into existence around him. He wouldn’t expect to find anyone else here.

Yet, that suited some deep, darkened piece of him just fine. The inside-itch, the one that was quietly begging for him to go deeper into the castle, wanted him to be alone. Alone was safe — supposedly. He didn’t know why, though. He just felt vulnerable.

His mind wandered back to someone who would be safe to be alone with.

Staring back through the door into the seething, cloudy turmoil and wondered if Daugi was alright. He slowly moved to poke his head out his makeshift entrance, wincing at the twigs and dirt that blew into his eyes. A shaky breath left him. They’d been separated — just for bit — while she had investigated the darker corners of the forest for enough prey to sate her hunger. She was a large beast. Large beasts needed large meals, and Fenn was normally perfectly happy to let her have the alone time she needed to feed herself. But the threat of that tornado had come rolling in, and now…

The little fae shivered, and pulled a brass whistle from his bag. Fweeeeeee! it shrilled. The sound echoed out of the narrow confines of the castle entryway, fading into a lonely sigh.

Holding his breath, Fenn waited. He waited. And waited. No howl answered his call.

Eventually, the fae had to shake his head and retreat into the building, no longer able to take the winds yanking at his neck. She was strong, he reassured himself. She was smarter than he like to give her credit for too. Wherever she was, Daugi was going to take care of herself.

A bout of dizziness had grabbed him by the back of his head. The mind-itching was a throb now. A need. To the dark. To a dark, deep corner now. To somewhere hidden and hollow. Somewhere to not be found. Gripping his skull, Fenn started down the castle’s hallways. Maybe the weather had worn him down. All he knew was that he wanted a place to sleep. He wanted to just forget the hell of gales outside; forget it until it went away and his wolf came back.