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I pull out the little bag of granola and start to shovel it into my mouth. God, I’m so hungry. I’ve been burning calories like crazy, trekking through the snow for hours.
I look toward the waning sun and frown. I guess this is what I thought I’d be doing, heading off on my own before I asked him to come. But he shouldn’t have agreed if he was going to ditch me! I shake my head as I sit on a fallen log beside the frozen river to eat.
I’m so mad at him, even though I barely know the guy.
Swallowing the granola and washing it down with some water from my water bottle—which is also getting really low—only makes me feel a little better. I open a bag of jerky, and it smells good.
Even stopping for this little while to eat, I feel the cold seeping in beyond what is comfortable. Not that I’ve been exactly comfortable all day, but when I’m moving, it’s a little more bearable. I frown, looking around. I didn’t have a watch on yesterday, and my phone got left behind when I fled the attack. So I have no idea what time it is.
I squint towards the already-setting sun. It’s winter, obviously, and that means shorter days, but how is it night already?
I look around, and still, Thing isn’t back yet. My chest tightens with anger at him. What the hell was he thinking? And then I start to worry. Did something happen to him? What if that. . . angel his brother was so worried about really is after them and did something to him?
Why did he have to be so foolish and leave me like that?
I shove another piece of jerky in my mouth and chew furiously.
That’s when I hear the first growl.
Instead of worrying about the seven-foot beast who can obviously take care of his own business, I should have been worrying about myself. Did the lynx attack yesterday teach me nothing? I’m in the wild now, which means that instead of the hunter, I’m now the prey.
As I leap to my feet, the bag of jerky falling to the snow, I grab my knife and spin around just in time to see a pack of hungry-looking wolves fan out just as the sun drops behind the mountains.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
THING
I return from the other realm, and my eyes open wide when I see how far the sun has fallen.
I miscalculated, losing myself among the numbing shadows in the netherworld. Whenever I plane-jump, I return exactly where my body was last.
There’s nothing to do but begin running. How far ahead of me is she? Knuckles to the ground, I sprint in the direction I told Ksenia to go.
Immediately I am swamped with regret, eyes looking between the falling sun and the ground beneath my knuckles and feet. I can travel three to four times faster than her, but instead of the hour or two I meant to leave her alone and a distance I could have covered in no time, it’s been—
I cannot think about how long it has been. Far, far longer than I ever intended to leave her alone.
In my selfish escape, I have left her vulnerable. And I know more than most the dangers of the near-arctic, especially in winter when predators become desperate with hunger.
I push myself even faster, flying across the ground, spitting snow in my wake.
The sun falls further, near to dropping behind the mountains now.
It will be fine, I try to tell myself. She is capable. She always keeps those precious knives of hers close, and from how she handled them with Remus, she knows how to use them.
But what good will they do from another lynx? It’ll rip her throat out before she gets in a single swipe. She is small. She smells of prey.
I sprint still. Nothing else matters except getting to her. If I fail her—
No. I will not think of it. I will not.
The white blurs around me. I’m ruthless as I push myself harder.
And then my worst fear—
A feminine scream cuts through the cold quiet.
By the time I finally catch up to her, one wolf is on top of her and the entire pack circles.
I let out a blood roar and extend all thirty claws as I leap to pull the wolf off her and scatter the rest. I land claws first.
Howls and snapping jaws meet me as I pierce the wolf’s pelt. Several wolves run, but others attack, leaping on me and biting at the heavy pack on my back. The one on top of Ksenia doesn’t move, and I reach down with my bottom pair of arms to wrench it off of her.
She is pale beneath it. Hannah’s pale pink coat is drenched with blood, and a large hunting knife sticks out of the wolf’s belly. My nose scents that the blood is the wolf’s, but it does nothing to calm my rage.
