Eli
The forest doesn’t care if I die.
It doesn’t care that my lungs are burning, that my legs threaten to give out with every step, or that I’m running half-blind through trees that look the same in every direction.
My pulse is a war drum in my ears, and each breath I take tastes of iron and frost. Snow flurries whip at my face, needle-sharp. Every inch of me screams for rest. But I can’t stop. I won’t stop.
Because if I do, he’ll catch me.
Or worse, they will.
The bond burns hot in my chest like a fresh brand. I feel it in every heartbeat, every stuttering breath. It tightens with every step I take away from him. Like a leash pulling taut, threatening to snap. My wolf paces just under my skin, agitated, confused, ears pinned. It wants to go back. It misses him. Him.
Traitor.
I sh
