Stolen: Warriors of Hir, Book 3 by Willow Danes Page A

he hurried to stand before the nervous animal.
    He didn’t answer, stroking Beya’s long nose to soothe her, searching her rolling eyes. It occurred to Summer then how much of Ke’lar’s life had been spent in silence out here, how much of it in quiet communication with this creature.
    The day had started clear enough, then clouded over. A few drops here and there had turned into a downpour.
    “The storm is worsening.” His face was grim. “We must seek shelter.”
    “It’s just a little rain!”
    It was a ridiculous way of describing this cloudburst. The skies had darkened terrifyingly and the wind was picking up fast but—
    “We can ride through this! We have to!” she insisted. “You said we need to get to the other side of the river before nightfall. How much farther is it?”
    “Too far.” He shook his head. “We will not make it in time to cross.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    “I am not,” he said. “Beya is sure.”
    She wiped the water out of her eyes. “So we ride faster. We ride real fast and we can get across the river, right?”
    Ke’lar glanced in that direction, his long blue-black hair lifted by the wind, his grip tight on the reins, Beya shifting nervously beneath her.
    “Right?” Summer prompted, her legs dangling on either side of the multari’s powerful back. There were only two stirrups and Ke’lar used them as he rode, leaving her feet hanging. It didn’t take long for that to get pretty uncomfortable and they’d been riding for hours but she wasn’t about to give up.
    “No.” His glowing gaze met hers then, and he had to raise his voice over the sound of the storm. “If she has become this agitated we will not have time to cross the river safely before the waters rise. If they rise quickly we cannot let ourselves be caught in the valley like this.”
    “Wait, are we talking flooding here? But—” They weren’t even in sight of the river yet. “How bad? The bridge will still be there. We could still cross.”
    He shook his head.  “There is no bridge.”
    “No bridge!” she exclaimed. “How the hell were we going to get across if there’s no damn bridge?”
    “I would swim carrying you, then return for Beya and our supplies.”
    “You were going to swim it?” Summer squinted against the rain. “Twice—no, three times?”
    “If the storm had not come I would not doubt my ability to get you safely across but—” He shook his head and mounted behind Beya again, turning the multari. “We must make for the mountains.”
    “No!” Summer cried, trying to catch the reins for the all the good it did her. Ke’lar had four times her strength. “That’s the wrong direction! We have to get to the clanhall as fast as we can!”
    “What we must do is reach higher ground—and quickly,” he said grimly. “Once the storm has passed we will take the mountain pass to the south and reach the clanhall that way.”
    “But—how much longer will it take to get to the clanhall if we do that?”
    Ke’lar’s arm went around her, holding her firmly against him. “It does not matter if the alternative is not getting there at all.”
    He kicked the multari and the beast took off at such a speed that Summer was clutching the saddle, her head bent to protect her face from the pelting rain as Beya galloped toward the mountains.

    Summer never knew rain could hurt .
    But this rain sure as hell did and this wasn’t a storm—it was a goddamned hurricane.
    Ke’lar’s arm was like steel around her middle as he fought to control the multari one-handed. Summer didn’t know how he could even see where they were going. She was forced to ride curled forward in the saddle, her head bent to her shoulder, trying with her other arm to protect her face against the pounding rain, utterly blinded by the downpour. She ached from holding this position so long but she didn’t dare shift. It was all she could do against the wind to hold on.
    She was shivering, the new boots he’d given