34
Saige
Every snap of a twig through the long night hours lessened Callan’s hold on sanity. He stood with his back to the fire, to me, and had my hands and ankles not been bound, I’d have grabbed up the closest rock and went after him.
But tension rode his shoulders, kept him on alert. His head jerked side to side at every whisper of wind through the trees. Every rustle of leaf litter. Every sound emitted by the creatures of the night—including the quiet snuffling of the beast haunting him. Stalking around us.
I hunkered against the cold, ears straining for another of Flynn’s bear sounds. Not having heard them from a real bear, I didn’t know his accuracy—but from Callan’s reaction, I expected he mimicked the beast perfectly.
But I knew it was Flynn. I recognized the deep timbre of hi
