A groan ripped from his throat as consciousness clawed its way up through the thick, muddy haze of the sedative. Everything was heavy—his limbs, his breath, his thoughts. Like trying to swim through wet cement.
But something pierced the fog.
A whisper.
A whimper.
Spring.
Pain.
Fear.
She’s in trouble.
The world tilted, sharper now.
His cat stirred sluggishly inside him.
C’mon, he begged, his fingers twitching against the cool dirt. Get up. She needs us. Please—we have to protect her.
A flicker of movement.
A twitch of an ear. The echo of a growl.
Then—a scream.
Spring’s scream.
That tore it.
His cat jerked awake, hissing with fury, clawing its way up through him like a storm. Their instincts fused.
Protect. Mate. Fight.
Roam’s back arched as energy surged through his muscles, raw and unfiltered. He gasped and rolled to his side, breath coming in shallow bursts.
Above him, he could hear her.
Spring, crying out in pain.
Too many footsteps. Too many enemies. Too many to fight head-on.
Think, he told himself, dragging in a breath. Think fast. What would Spring do?
He pushed a shaking hand through his hair.
Nothing.
Then—
His fingers brushed against something in his pocket.
Soft.
Spongy.
The mushroom.
