Page 103 of The Last Sanctuary
Ten feet away, his powerful hind legs crouched for a final spring, the tiger hesitated. His ears rotated toward her.
Did he recognize her whistle? Deep in his diseased predator’s brain, did some part of him recall an affinity for a certain familiar human?
Whatever the reason, he paused.
“You know me!” She took a slow step backward, still facing him. Then another step. “You know me.”
His head tilted. He snarled at her, baring his bloodied, foaming fangs.
“I’m so sorry, Vlad.” She took another step. Twenty yards from the edge of the clearing. “This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry.”
Vlad made a low hissing, spitting sound. His ears twitched, and he swung his head away from her. As if searching for new prey.
He had spared her. Even sick, he remembered?—
Then Vaughn shot him.
The round struck Vlad’s right hindquarter. With a pained roar, the tiger spun and sprang at Vaughn with outstretched claws.
Raven didn’t waste a second.
She had to move. Move right now.
Grieve later. Mourn later. Think later.
Now, she had to live. Had to protect Shadow.
Time to run.
“Shadow!” she screamed. “Go!”
Shadow had remained at Luna’s side. Alternatively whining and snarling. Howling his grief.
Raven ran to him. Dared a glance at Luna’s bedraggled form, dragged her gaze away. The dizziness was fading, the pain a dull throbbing.
Behind her, the tiger roared. Another gun went off.
They didn’t have much time.
She dared to put her hands on Shadow. She grabbed the thick ruff of guard hairs at the back of his neck and tugged. Her feet slipped in the slick ferns. She pulled at him. “Run! We have to run!”
Shadow flicked his ears toward her. He shook his huge head, as if coming out of a mournful fugue. He bolted across the clearing.
The wolf dodged between the boulders at the edge of the clearing and disappeared between the trees. Rain obscured his dark shape among darker shadows.
Raven sprinted after him. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She fixed her gaze on the rifle lying in the ferns. The rifle she’d left behind what felt like years ago.
Dimly, she heard the shouts of the Headhunters, Vlad’s roar, the blasts of guns. Her ribs on fire, her back throbbing. Still, she ran. Her back felt like an exposed target.
She reached the hickory trees, squatted and grasped her rifle, slick with rain, rose and kept running, deeper into the shelter of the trees. Smears of mud crusted her soaked clothes. Cold rain pelted her face.
Behind her echoed the roars and screams and gunshots. Eventually, they’d realize she’d escaped and come hunting for her.
In her panic, she tripped over a rock she hadn’t seen in the rain and went down hard, barely getting her arms up to protect her face. The rifle went flying. Her body struck mud.
Spasms of pain ripped through her ribs. Her skull pulsed with red and white stars. Her vision went blurry.
Rapid footsteps sounded behind her.
