A Hatred Most Pure novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: Fire

The granary was burning when we reached the courtyard.

Flames stood out of its roof in long orange sheets, and the lower gate hung off one hinge.

Men in Saltmarsh gray were pouring through the gap, swords out, torches in their fists.

Ansel stopped on the stair step and began to take his coat off.

"Stay inside," he said to me. "Stay behind the door."

"Ansel."

"Don't argue."

He walked into the yard, and halfway across it his shoulders began to broaden and his spine bent.

I had never seen an Urekai change.

Black fur ran up his arms and across his back, and bone shifted under his skin. His jaw lengthened. His coat tore at the seams and fell.

What turned toward the gate was as large as a cart horse, black from nose to tail, with gray eyes that reflected the fire.

He tore through the raiders at the gate, and they scattered from him.

I stood in the doorway and watched, and I could not look away.

Then I heard the screaming.

A woman was running at the granary, a thin woman with her hair coming down.

It was the one who had scalded me.

"My son!" she was shouting. "He was in the loft, he was hiding from the bell, my son!"

Nobody stopped her but one man, who caught her round the waist and held on.

I didn't think about it.

I ran to the horse trough, ducked my head under, and pulled my wet shawl up over my mouth.

The heat hit me hard at the granary door.

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