Page 34 of The Last Sanctuary
At least she had the knife. An image of the wooden bird she’d carved at her father’s bedside flitted through her mind. Her father’s body, going stiff, growing cold. Even though she’d wrapped him in a tarp, she imagined the red Georgia clay filling his gaping mouth, pressing against his dead eyeballs.
She scraped off the bark in sharp, jerky movements. She inhaled a breath.Focus.Drive every bad thought out. She made long, sweeping cuts with the grain, carving a rough outline, breathing deep with each stroke.
Her hands fell into the familiar rhythm almost without purposeful thought. Using push and pull cuts, she gently carved the soft shape, the curve of the body, the sweep of the wings, the arc of the head, and the sharp V of the beak.
Another hour passed. Wood shavings scattered in the leaves beneath her. She smiled grimly at the carved raven, cradled it in her palm, an ache in her chest. She used to leave them around the house for her mother and father to discover, little secret gifts. Only her mother ever noticed them, tucked in her dresser drawer or nestled beneath her pillow.
How Raven missed them, both of them, even as she resented them for leaving her behind, abandoned and completely alone, trapped in a nightmare that wouldn’t end.
She’d thought being alone was what she wanted.
She was wrong.
The truth was, no matter how much she’d tried to hate her mother, no matter how thick the resentment and anger had grown around her heart, Raven could not stop loving her.
The love hurt more than hate ever could.
In the end, her mother hadn’t loved her enough to come back.
Raven placed the carving on the leaf-strewn ground. She blinked rapidly, fighting the stinging in her eyes. She didn’t cry. She never cried. Tears were weakness, her father said—used to say.
A moan escaped her lips. She shouldn’t think these things, shouldn’t feel the pain twisting her gut. Not now, when she had to focus on surviving the night.
She drew her knees to her chest, shivering as she concentrated on the night sounds. A symphony of crickets. The haunting hoot of an owl. The skitter of a small creature through the leaves.
Despite the danger, exhaustion caught up with her. She’d barely slept for three days. More than once, she dozed off, jerking awake with a start at every rustle in the brush, every crack of a twig.
She felt, rather than heard, the wolf’s return.
Her eyes snapped open.
Shadow stood less than four feet away. He was staring straight at her.
Before she could react, he sprang in close and nipped her knee. His fangs ripped a small hole in her pants, scraped against her skin.
She didn’t move. Didn’t wince at the sting of pain.
He stood so close, the damp musk of his coat filled her nostrils. Hot breath streamed between his open jaws. His pink tongue lolled. Mud coated the bottom of his gigantic paws.
He stood over her, lowered his head, and nipped her calf.
She swallowed a whimper.
He gave her a calculating, inscrutable look. His amber gaze was penetrating as if he was staring right through her, and could see every beat of her shuddering heart. A strange, wondrous terror filled her.
Shadow stepped to the side, across her legs, and bumped hard against her shoulder as he passed. Without the trunk braced against her back, he would’ve knocked her over.
He circled so close he brushed against her with every turn. His body was solid, all muscle, coiled strength, and power. His fur was coarse and thick. Once again, he circled her, this time bumping her legs as he passed.
He was investigating her, making sure she wasn’t a threat—but also checking to see if she was something he’d enjoy devouring. Each time he brushed against her, and she didn’t act like prey or predator, it strengthened his decision to let her be.
Relief cascaded through her entire body. The hybrid wolf didn’t want to hurt her. Shadow would let her go.
Her relief lasted only an instant.
The wolf spun so swiftly her brain barely registered the movement. He lunged in and snapped his jaws. His lips curled back from his teeth.
He snarled inches from her face. A spray of saliva struck her cheeks. His hot wet breath seared her skin. She smelled the stink of a carnivore’s breath, the scent every creature of prey smelled before their untimely demise.
