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Within moments, Ridge joins us, looking grim. “Let’s go.”
Without saying a word, Dare, Trystan, and I all strip and shift. Ridge affixes our packs to our backs before loosening the straps on his own pack so it won’t be torn off when he shifts. The magic ripples over him, then the four of us take off into the forest.
Now that I’m in wolf form, the lingering effects of Sable’s spell vanish, and I feel more clear-headed. I can tell the same can be said for my companions, because they’re moving faster and easier too. The early morning birdsong cuts through the fog and gives me something to focus on as we leave the open fields around the village for the cover of the trees.
Lucky for us, Sable has no clue what she’s doing. A wolf who doesn’t want to be found can be a tricky creature to track. They’re good at erasing their presence and disguising their scents. The more practice and time they have to hone these skills, the better they get, until they’re nothing but a ghost in the forest. Sable hasn’t had the time or training to pick up those tricks, thankfully.
Once inside the forest, we stick our noses to the ground and start searching for her scent. I dart through the trees, zig zagging to cover more ground. The dirt here is heavy with the scent of shifters—Ridge’s pack mates going on patrol, going hunting, taking walks. I’m looking for Sable’s specific smell, and I know I’ll recognize it the moment I cross it.
Found her, Ridge calls out through our mind connection before long, then lets out a yip to pinpoint his location.
I pop up from my search and see Trystan’s shaggy chocolate brown wolf heading farther into the trees. I follow him, trusting he’s got eyes on our friend.
Ridge stamps at the ground as we approach, and then whips around with a swing of his tail and takes off, his nose to the ground as he follows her trail.
As we near him, I smell it too. The unmistakable combination of smells that can only be my mate.
My heart thuds heavily in my chest as my nostrils twitch. The scent of Sable’s wolf on the dirt makes this all too real. I race after Ridge and the others
, my mind a riot of fear and what-ifs.
We have to find her before she gets hurt.
10
Sable
I run at a breakneck pace, my paws thudding on the ground and my lungs pumping with cold, fresh air. I can smell the crisp scent of pine and snow that I always associate with the mountains, and there’s another scent that makes me think of dawn and the steady awakening of the earth. Everything around me is sharp and perfect, and I want to roll around in it all, get these scents on me until I’ve forgotten everything else.
If I focus on the way it feels to be out here racing toward the wilderness, it blocks out some of the burning ache in my heart and the worry about how pissed the guys are going to be when they finally wake up from my spell. I don’t let myself worry about how risky this venture is, especially for a wolf like me who has no business being alone out here, chasing down a woman no one knows how to find.
A woman who may or may not actually exist.
If I focus on the sights, smells, and sounds of the journey, I don’t notice the way my heart is breaking.
This will break my mates’ hearts too. I know that. And I hate it.
But I couldn’t stay behind and risk hurting any of them. Whatever exists inside of me is like a ticking time bomb, and at some point, it’s going to explode. When it does, I won’t have any control over the casualties, so I need to be far, far away until I get answers.
The trees thin around a fast-moving mountain spring, and pink-tinged early morning sunshine spills down through the canopy of leaves above, shimmering off the water like fire. I pause just long enough to take a drink. I’m still not used to lapping up water as a wolf, but it’s worth it, because everything tastes so much fresher and clearer in this form. The spring is like a burst of cold energy, spurring me to keep going.
I splash through the stream, watching my paws on the slippery rocks and tracking the depth of the water carefully so the current doesn’t knock my feet out from beneath me. I’m not interested in learning how to doggy paddle alone in the woods without someone here to haul me out in the event that I can’t cut it. But luckily, the stream barely reaches the bottom of my belly at its deepest point. I move through it unscathed, then bound up the far bank, give myself a good shake, and fall back into a sprint, heading due north toward the hazy mountains in the distance.
All I have to go on are a few vague directions I pieced together from Elder Jihoon’s diary entry and Dare’s commentary. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. It is a lot of ground to cover though. Twenty miles to the north, heading for a mountain range I spotted before the trees got too thick to see beyond.
I’m afraid I won’t be able to do this on my own; I’m not even sure if I’m going the right way, or what I’ll do once I reach the mountain shaped like a wolf’s head and have nothing more to guide me. But I have to try. I have to find a way to beat the darkness inside me, or I’ll end up hurting the men I love. Or hurting more than just them. Hurting the whole pack, or all of the shifters. Myself, even.
For a long time, it’s just me and the wind. I catch glimpses of deer grazing and squirrels foraging. Foxes eye me warily from their dens as I pass, little black noses sniffing the air. But none of the creatures pay me much attention. Probably since I’m obviously not here for them. I hardly give them a cursory glance and continue racing past them. Beyond the intermittent wildlife, this area is blessedly empty.
But then something prickles against my awareness. My wolf floods with the feeling that I’m not alone—a scent in the air, or an almost inaudible noise, something that doesn’t belong.
A split second later, four wolves race through the undergrowth, bursting from the trees behind me and fanning out in a practiced sweep to surround me.
Startled, I throw on the brakes, and my big paws skid across the moss and leaves on the ground. I don’t have a chance to be scared, because my wolf recognizes them immediately, by scent and by sight—my mates.
Dammit. Even with my head start, they found me.
I hoped my sleeping sigil would hold long enough for me to get out of range, or for my scent to fade from my trail. Although that was probably a stupid thing to hope for, considering they’re four alphas and my skills are hardly better than a pup’s at this point. My optimism outshines my logic sometimes.
