He woke with a start.
The woods were silent. Even the pain in his leg had stopped, as if waiting for some sudden movement to jolt it to life. The night was quiet, too quiet, and the heavy hand of winter pressed down around him, frosting the grass and shivering the air. Brance was alone, his mate still on the hunt, but something had cut through his thin doze, had silenced the birds and the owls and their prey, had scared the very darkness into submission. Something—
A cry pierced the night, an inhuman howl that hurt to hear it. In an instant, Brance was on his feet, the hair on his hackles standing on end, his tail spooked into a bottlebrush shape. The cry lingered on—not a wounded animal, but a trapped one, calling for help, calling…
For me.
Caleb.
Adrenaline flooded his veins like ke
