Page 77 of Dawn of the Pack

All around me wolves are snarling and snapping, trying to gain ground in a bizarre game I can’t even come up with an example to compare it to. Maybe the opposite of tug of war?

Bodies press against me on all sides, hard muscle and bone covered with fur squeezing and pushing. The wolves at the front line—a few yards ahead of me now—bite and claw at each other, and it’s swiftly becoming a fight for every inch.

Panic—heart-stopping, undiluted terror—seizes me in an instant. There’s nowhere to go; we’re pressed together so tightly it feels as if I’m about to be crushed by my own pack.

And that’s when an absolutely crazy idea pops into my head.

As far ahead as I can see, it’s like a literal ocean of fur; bodies pressed together so tightly they almost form a flat surface.

I have to get to Nielsen, and I have to get there before the clock strikes one.

The entire plan is going to shit; I’m not supposed to leave my mates, but I don’t see how we can all get to that house through this crowd. It’s an impossible choice.

Summoning my courage, I draw in a breath and leap onto Jared’s broad, furry back. He yelps in surprise, but realizing it’s me, stops trying to shake me off.

With my sights on the house at the top of the hill, I begin sprinting across the sea of wolves.

Picking my way across living bodies is way different from navigating solid ground. The surface constantly shifts and it’s impossible to know what’ll happen with each paw I place. The positive side is that I have four feet, and if I move quickly, the wolves below don’t even have time to react before I’m already gone.

I cross the line to the Montrose wolves, and fortunately, the ones at the front are too busy to see me coming. However, the next row does, and now I have an additional hazard to avoid: teeth.

Treading as lightly as I can, I make my best effort to dart around the wolves that try to stop me. Some merely snap at my paws when I get near; others rise on their hind legs for better reach, and still others try to pull the same move and clamber on top of their brethren. They’re so tightly packed they have no room to adjust, which is beneficial to me. My heart continues pounding in the deep chest of my wolf form, and I keep my gaze ahead. Forty yards left, thirty-five, thirty…

It’s slow, but certainly faster than if I were still stuck back in the crowd of my pack. I can’t risk looking back. I have to keep moving forward. My body develops a rhythm, calculating each step faster than my brain can process as I navigate to the wolves who aren’t looking up, creating the safest path for me to maneuver.

Twenty-five yards, twenty, fifteen…

I’m so close now I can see clear ground at last. When I reach the end I know I have to leap and keep running, as the wolves at the back will surely turn and pursue. I scan for Nielsen in the handful of people still human by the door, preparing to run straight for him to issue the challenge.

And that’s when sharp teeth close around my throat.

She pulls me into the writhing mass of wolves; a surprised whine escapes my canine muzzle, and the panic sets in again. When surrounded by enemies, not only is there a possibility of being crushed but also of being literally pulled apart. My paws scrabble for purchase and I twist, trying to free myself from iron jaws. With surprise, I note that none of the other wolves have tried to tear into me, despite clearly being aware of who I am. I take courage from that, and fight harder.

But my opponent holds on tightly. I can’t see her, but my nostrils flare with desperate breaths and I recognize the scent of my opponent; it’s the same female I fought the last time I was here.

Dread floods my body; she’s a much better fighter than me. I barely escaped last time, and she’s already got a lock on my neck. The only thing I can hope for is that Nielsen wants to take me out himself and she might just be planning to drag me up to him.

Hot liquid trickles through the fur on my neck, and I fight against the instinct to rip myself free of her jaws. That route will probably get my throat torn out before I even have a chance to face Nielsen.

If that’s even her plan.

Trying to think my way through this scenario is like dragging a spoon through a jar of cold honey. I’m fighting the panic with every fiber of my being, but I just can’t see a way to get myself out of this situation.

And then a familiar brown wolf leaps from the crowd and lands squarely on my opponent, snarling fiercely.

It doesn’t surprise me that someone from Smoky Falls took my lead and leapfrogged across the backs of the wolves. I hated to leave them behind, but I hoped a few would follow.

But it is a shock that the person who came to my rescue is Amber.

She’s practically feral, clawing and snapping and heaving her weight against the other female, forcing her to choose between holding my throat and defending herself.

And it works; when Amber lands a particularly savage bite on the other wolf’s ear, the Montrose wolf releases me and turns to face the newest threat.

I stand on shaky legs and try to think fast; I have to move before the surrounding wolves can take her place. Even now they’re turning inward, separating me from Amber and tightening the surrounding space.

And then, like my personal cavalry, my mates arrive.

Leaping off some unknown Montrose wolf backs, they wedge themselves between me and the surrounding enemies, forcing them outward while pushing forward, creating a small gap to lead me through.

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