Page 60 of Finding His Fox

The wendigo was still out there, so I was reluctant to leave Nate. My gaze shifted to the protective charm on Nate’s wrist, reminding me that it would hide him from any supernatural threats.

Besides, Nate was more than capable of protecting himself. My mate was tough as nails. I thought of Mitchell alone in the woods, scared and vulnerable.

“Go, I’ll be fine here,” Nate reassured me.

“Alright. Don’t open the door to anyone but me,” I instructed Nate.

With a reluctant sigh, I leaned over Nate and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

“Good luck,” Nate whispered to me.

I nodded, then armed the security system before leaving the cabin with a heavy heart.

It would be faster to search in my animal form. I quickly shed my clothes and shifted, becoming one with my fox.

Once on all fours, I entered the dense forest.

As I ran, I focused on every sense, paying attention to every rustle and whisper of wind that might lead me closer to Mitchell.

I couldn’t shake the image of Mitchell’s worried parents back at the compound, and the thought of Mitchell cowering in some corner of the forest, terrified and alone.

I ventured deeper into the woods, scanning my surroundings for any signs left by Mitchell.

Suddenly, a tainted but familiar scent reached my nostrils—blood and rotting flesh.

My hackles raised, and I followed my nose. In the distance, I heard a faint yelp followed by a whimper.

My heart pounded in my chest as visions of finding a lifeless body strung in the trees played in my mind. I also pictured Shawn, ripped to shreds before my very eyes.

I might have failed Shawn, but I wouldn’t allow Mitchell to suffer the same fate.

Soon, discarded carcasses of small animals littered the path, evidence of the wendigo’s killing spree.

The creature had been feasting on smaller prey before catching the scent of Mitchell, a much larger prize.

My muscles strained as I pushed my body to its limits. Mitchell’s cries of distress grew louder, guiding me towards him. Finally, I caught sight of the wendigo’s matted fur and muscled back.

The creature towered over a tiny fox cub pressed against a tree—Mitchell was alive!

Relief washed over me, swiftly followed by anger. How dare this monster prey on a defenseless child?

I let out a challenging growl, causing the wendigo to spin around, narrowing its good eye at me.

It snarled, saliva dripping from its snout, its savage eyes burning with hatred and recognition.

It didn’t immediately go after me, and that unsettled me. The wendigo wore a calculating expression, and I remembered from my readings that wendigos were once human.

They had transformed into monstrous creatures with claws and fangs over time, fueled by their taste for human flesh.

Time seemed to stand still as I realized the gravity of the situation. The wendigo lunged for Mitchell, likely aware that I would intervene. With a growl, I sprinted forward, desperation clawing at me.

I knew I wouldn’t reach them in time. Mitchell was going to die at this rate.

“Pick on someone your own size,” I thought as I leaped at the monster, aiming to bite its left leg.

My goal was to slow it down and buy Mitchell some time to escape.

As my fangs sank into its flesh, the wendigo’s putrid breath washed over my face. It retaliated by digging its wicked claws into my vulnerable lower belly.