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I don’t know these lands the way the shifters do, but as we set out, I can tell we’re taking a different path than the past couple times we arrived here at the mating cabin. Dare takes the lead, limping at a surprisingly quick pace for how injured his left leg is. I hate the thought of him up ahead, pushing through a debilitating haze of drugged-up pain, all alone with his own thoughts.
I wish I could comfort him, but he’d only push me away if I tried.
We jog for a while, though the only indication of passing time is the sun’s path across the cloudless sky. We pass over bare, rocky terrain, through a deep ravine, and into the soft cool shadow of a thick forest. The terrain is beautiful here, and more than once I find myself lost in the spectacle of it. It’s no wonder the shifters choose to live out here in the wilderness, surrounded by the mountains and the huge, blue Montana sky.
After a while, the landscape begins to pass a little slower, and I glance at Dare just slightly ahead of me and Ridge. It’s obvious his strength is flagging.
My jaw tightens, a knot twisting in my stomach. Shit. I knew he was pushing himself too far, setting too aggressive of a pace for that leg. As if he can sense my thoughts, the black wolf looks over at me, then quickly looks away with a small whine.
My heart aches for him. Not just for what he’s going through, but for the gulf that stretches between us.
Our pace gets slower and slower the longer we run, and it’s agonizing to see Dare pushing himself beyond what he should have to endure. But he keeps himself going long enough for us to reach the East Pack.
We finally step out of the thick forest into a vast clearing between two mountains. A small village sits up ahead, smoke curling from chimneys and a few people moving among the cabins. As we get closer, I can see that the setup is quite similar to Ridge’s town, only a bit smaller, with the homes closer together.
Just beyond the first line of houses, Ridge cuts ahead of Dare, halting his limping progress. He kneels, indicating I should get off. My legs and arms feel wobbly from so much time remaining seated on his back. I do a few stretches, shaking out my limbs while the men shift back to human form.
Archer is the first to finish getting dressed, and he goes to Dare’s side to help the wounded shifter get into his shorts. “We’re going straight to the medicine woman,” he informs us, shaking his head as he catch’s Dare’s gaze. “You look like death.”
“I feel like death,” the black-haired shifter croaks, leaning into Archer’s side.
“Hey, no more witch hunts. Got it?” Ridge jokes as he steps up on Dare’s other side.
I feel useless, standing around watching them help their wounded friend. I want to help him. I could have helped him put his shorts on or taken some of his weight on my shoulders. But how can I do any of that when he flinches from my touch and won’t even meet my eyes?
So instead, I fall into step behind the three men with Trystan, who’s uncharacteristically silent.
We draw several gazes, the same way I did on the day I tried to flee Ridge’s pack lands. But the looks we get aren’t filled with suspicion, just curious interest.
Archer takes us up a side road and past several houses. Two small kids are out playing in one yard, and somewhere nearby, I hear another child let out a laughing shriek. We pass a woman on her knees in a vegetable patch, and a man with bushy white hair sweeping off his front steps. Like in Ridge’s village, nobody would ever guess these people are shifters. Everything just looks so… normal.
Finally, we peel off from the main road and take a long, narrow dirt path away from the cluster of homes toward a small log cabin set apart from the rest. The chimney smokes merrily, indicating the healer is home, thank goodness.
Dare makes it onto her front porch before his legs collapse beneath him.
I let out a small cry when it happens, then clap my hand to my mouth as if I can take it back. He hits the wooden slats of the porch hard on both knees. Ridge and Archer both try to catch some of his weight before he crashes down, but pain flashes across his face. His strength is really waning now, and it sets off a burst of panic inside me.
I knew he was pushing too hard. It takes every ounce of my willpower to stay back and let the other men help him back to his feet. Even if I did go to him, he wouldn’t accept my help. Honestly, the idea of facing yet another rejection from him is enough to keep me standing on the grass with Trystan.
The door to the cabin creaks open, and a tall, willowy woman with flyaway gray hair, vivid golden eyes, and deep creases in her face stares out at us. She’s in pink sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and clearly wasn’t expecting company.
“Archer,” she greets the blond man. Then her gaze slides over to Dare. “What’s this?”
“He needs help,” Archer replies, readjusting his grip on Dare as his head lolls. “Can we come in? I’m sorry we couldn’t give you more advance warning.”
The woman waves off his apology then steps aside, pulling her door wide open. Archer and Ridge turn sideways to guide Dare into the dim interior, and Trystan holds out a hand to indicate I should go ahead of him. The wooden porch steps bend and creak beneath me, and I pass by the woman with a polite smile.
The cabin is clean but sparse, with brightly painted, unadorned walls, a single couch, and a hallway that leads to several open doors. The woman shifter passes me on silent bare feet and holds out an arm to indicate one of the doors. “In here. Tell me what happened.”
I stay back by the doorway as Ridge and Archer lean forward to let Dare fall onto the bed. He’s barely conscious now, his eyes nothing but slits and his breathing ragged. Archer bends down and pulls his feet up onto the bed, pointing out the massive wound on his leg. He gives her a quick explanation of what’s going on. He mentions Dare got in a fight with some witches, but he conveniently leaves out the fact that the injured man went looking for them.
The healer chews her lip as she listens, her eyebrows rising and falling as she absorbs Archer’s words. Then she turns to examine Dare, poking and prodding at the wounds the men have done their best to dress. Finally, she straightens and nods grimly at Archer. “He’s in rough shape, but I think I can help him. I need some time.”
“We’ll leave him here,” Archer says. “I’ve got to see my father about some things. I’ve been away too long. Do you need anything?”
“No, I have everything I need. I’ll get him back on his feet in no time.”
Archer nods, and then he and Ridge turn away from the bed and head back toward me. I watch the healer bend over Dare, talking quietly to herself as she examines his wounds more closely. Hopefully she’s as good as Archer swears she is.
