Not quite howl.
Not quite shout.
Something between.
A voice.
Lucian’s, I thought, distantly, though the words were swallowed by distance and trees.
Rhea stiffened.
“The contested clearing is a ways past here,” she said. “If they’ve gone that deep…”
“I need to see,” I said again.
She closed her eyes briefly.
“You truly have no survival instinct,” she muttered.
“That’s not true,” I said. “I’m very committed to surviving. I just don’t think staying put while the two wolves most likely to get me killed circle each other counts as safety.”
She opened her eyes.
Reluctant respect flickered there.
“You’re insane,” she said.
“Probably,” I said.
“Fine,” she sighed. “But we stay high. You don’t make a sound. We look, then we leave. There are no speeches from the ridge this time.”
“Agr
