Petunia jerked upright, spinning toward the sound, face pale. Danielle froze beside her, hackles rising. Then came a second sound—deep and mournful—a wolf’s howl that split the silence like a blade.
But it wasn’t just any howl.
It carried words.
“Danger. Run.”
Danielle’s ears pinned back. The message was clear. The voice of the pack, urgent and terrified.
Someone was attacking.
Petunia stumbled a step backward, then looked toward the cottage—toward home—but then turned her gaze back to the trees, torn between safety and whatever was happening beyond the hill.
Danielle growled low in her throat. Something terrible was coming.
Petunia’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing with fierce determination. Without a second thought, she dashed forward, her small figure vanishing into the tree
