Page 93 of The Last Sanctuary
The Headhunters glowered and cursed as they hacked their way through the dense undergrowth. Rain pounded their heads and shoulders, dripping from branches, streaming in rivulets from the bushes. In minutes, they were soaked, their clothing sodden. Their boots sloshed through the mud.
They followed the narrow deer path that Raven had traversed earlier, which felt like months ago. They hiked for almost two hours. Raven’s wet pants clung to her body, though her arms and torso beneath her jacket were dry—still freezing, but dry.
She lifted her head and drank the rain, soothing her parched throat.
“Hurry up!” Dekker prodded the small of her back so hard she stumbled over a tree root. Pain stabbed her ribs with every step. She pushed it down somewhere deep inside.
Damien tightened his grip on her arm, holding her up. “Lay off. She’s doing the best she can.”
“This better be worth it, wolf girl,” Dekker said.
Raven summoned a flat smile. “It will be.”
Damien quickened his pace to create some distance between them and Dekker. He squeezed Raven’s arm and pulled her along. She hated that she needed his help, but she did.
He kept shooting her tense, worried glances. His brows knitted in concern. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
“I know, stupid question.”
She said nothing. What was there to say? Her nerves were stretched taut. It was difficult to breathe from the fear and anxiety churning in her belly.
“I came to see you last night.” Damien lowered his voice. “I brought you medicine, but Vaughn wouldn’t let me give it to you. He wouldn’t let me inside the tiger house to talk to you, either. I’m sorry. I tried.”
“Try harder,” she muttered.
“I am, I promise you. I’ve been talking with my uncle nonstop, advocating for you. I’m the one who suggested you could find the white wolf for him, in exchange for your life, okay? It’s good he went for it. You’ll be okay now. Everything will be okay.”
She shook her head. How stupid was this guy? Things were as far from okay as she could imagine. “Dekker will just murder me anyway.”
“No, he won’t. He knows Vaughn will kill him for disobedience. He’ll do what Vaughn says. If my uncle says you live, you get to live.”
“Okay, sure.” She still didn’t believe it. Not that it mattered.
Vaughn marched on ahead. He paused, twisting to stare back at her. “You'd better know where we’re going.”
“I do.”
She’d been studying the tell-tale signs. A paw print here and there, not quite smeared by the rain. Mostly hare, raccoon, badger, and deer tracks. But there were a few other prints, larger ones. She noted bent and broken twigs, a torn spider’s web, a crushed leaf, a snarl of her own black hair snagged on a bramble.
Though she had no GPS or compass to guide her, her father had taught her how to find her bearings in the middle of the woods, how to track the creatures of the forest—even if that creature was herself.
“Keep north,” she said. “It’s not long now.”
“You know what will happen if you mislead us,” Vaughn warned.
As if she could forget. She didn’t need the threats. She was well aware of the predicament she’d found herself in. “I know.”
They trudged through the dank, miserable wetness, heads ducked against the rain. Her hamstrings tight, her ribs aching. Rain sluiced off her hood. Her skin was chilled, clammy. Dread and horror tangled inside her, growing heavier with every step.
“You shouldn’t have come back.” Damien’s voice was low enough that only she could hear him beneath the blur of the rain. “You were free.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. I couldn’t just leave her.”
He looked at her, eyes bleak. “I tried to do something. It wasn’t enough.”
“No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”
