packs aren't always of the same species (a WayHaught au)

and found

It didn't take you long to realize you were lost. Again.

Or that you had just potentially walked - more like, full-on Usain Bolted (ba dum tss) - yourself right into a trap...or close to one anyway. You weren't really sure whether finding yourself trodding up the side of a steep mountain as the weather took a turn for the worse could really be considered a trap, but you heard the scream. It was Waverly, you were sure of it when you heard it. Your reaction was instinct - get to Waverly before anything happened to her. Yet, you hadn't run into her or caught a whiff of her scent all afternoon and it was starting to get dark. You were beginning to second guess what you heard, playing it on a constant loop in your head. It was torture, but it somehow worked as a sick form of motivation and a reminder that you weren't crazy. That you heard what you heard.

Before you could dwell on it much further though, you heard it again. Your name choked out between a shuddering sob. The only difference was this time, it sounded off. You caught the slip right away and it made your stomach plummet. That time, it was not Waverly. It was her voice, sure, but there was an undertone of something more gravelly that you were sure you only caught onto because of the wolf's sensitive hearing. It sounded like something was trying to mimic her call for help and it sent a violent shudder down your spine while the wolf grew more on edge. Something was toying with you. And it was using Waverly as bait.

It began to sleet heavily as the wind picked up and you had to desperately grasp onto anything in front of you to keep from falling down the slick rocks and slowing you down any further. The mixture of the wind and sleet felt like glass cutting across the sensitive skin of your cheeks. All you could think about was that if you felt it, how in the hell was Waverly holding up? Your sight distance was quickly diminishing to near nothing, but your only option was to keep pushing yourself forward. To get to Waverly.

You weren't even sure you were headed in the right direction. Sound traveled weird in the woods. The weather wasn't helping much either. Even if it was a trap, whoever was out there had had Waverly at one point. Hopefully they still did. Following the cry was your only option to get her back to Wynonna.

You had to have been hiking for hours before you finally reached the top of the mountain, nearly collapsing with exhaustion as you stumbled on the suddenly flat ground. The sun had fully set, your clothes were nothing more than stiff icicles against your skin and even with the extra warmth from the wolf, your body was still shaking violently, especially now that you were no longer exerting any body heat from the climb.

The sleet had died down significantly, but the wind showed no signs of becoming any less ruthless. You could at least see through your frozen eyelashes, though. Not that that was any better, it seemed, because it only took you a few seconds to realize you had crossed over into Ghost River Triangle territory. Your mind immediately went to the last time you found yourself across the imaginary boundary and you didn't like it, not one bit. Not to mention that prickly feeling at the back of your skull was back full force.

The wolf wanted to leave, she wanted to turn back around and head back down the mountain and hopefully out of the GRT, but you could barely move. Your limbs were lethargic from the cold and lack of rest, your brain was fogged with thoughts and visions of Waverly out there alone, scared, or in trouble. All you wanted to do was lie down in a bed underneath a pile of warm blankets and sleep a dreamless sleep, void of murderers and kidnappers.

Eventually, you came to an agreement.

You needed to rest, the wolf knew that. You would be no use to Waverly (or yourself) if you couldn't even stand. So, you unpacked the tent from your backpack and began vigorously trying to set it up as the wind, and now snow, picked up around you. It was so loud, you were sure that if you had the energy to speak, you wouldn't actually be able to hear yourself over the roar of the wind.