"What lies before us and what lies behind us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
- Ralph Waldo Enerson.
The last thing she remembered was the smell of the forest.
Earthy, mossy and ancient; the steady rain brought it to life, and it wrapped itself around her, helping to hide her scent.
The sound of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears. Each breath came in a harsh, jagged rasp that muffled all the other sounds of the forest.
Her wolf urged her to: Run, until there is nothing left. And then? Run some more.
Mindless of the branches and tangled weeds that blocked her path, she threw herself through the undergrowth. They whipped back across her face and arms; leaving behind thin scratches in protest.
Every step became an unbearable agony; the leaves stained red beneath her bare feet. She knew she could move faster if she allowed her wolf to take control, but if she stopped to transform after so long, they would surely catch up with her. She fought the urge.
Her life depended on her ability to keep moving, to force her torn-up feet to move faster and faster across the uneven ground; an overwhelming sense of fear driving her on.
The sharp snap of a twig nearby caught her attention; out of place amidst the percussion of the rain. As she ran, her head snapped in the sound's direction; eyes frantically scanning the trees for signs they had found her already.
It was a mistake.
Suddenly, her feet left the safety of the forest floor. She realised too late that she'd stepped off a steep rocky embankment, tumbling out of control into the abyss.
She barely noticed the scrapes and bruises as she slid down the mud-stricken embankment, skidding past outcrops of sharp rocks and torn-up tree roots. But she did feel the blinding pain in the side of her head as it cracked against the edge of a large boulder halfway down.
Dazed and battered, she rolled to a gentle stop against a fallen log.
The rain continued to fall around her still body, washing away the streaks of mud and smothering all traces of the trail left behind her. It settled lightly on her already-damp skin. She concentrated on the sound, allowing its gentle patter to calm her racing heartbeat and steady her breathing.
She knew she should get up and keep moving, but the moss that now cushioned her was soft and comfortable. Besides, her scattered thoughts refused to focus on where and why she had been running in the first place.
She didn't notice her proximity to the pack border - she couldn't have focused on it if she had; where she lay was no longer important. How she'd arrived there? Even less so.
The trees around her began to fade away until even the sound of the rain disappeared, and all that remained was the smell of the forest as she sank into a welcome, comforting darkness.
YOU ARE READING
Hunters' Shadow (Book one of the Hunter Chronicles)
Werewolf**Sample, published on Amazon!** Blackridge is the largest pack in the region. And Blake Hunter is its Alpha. Plagued with rogue attacks, uninvited guests, and whispers of war; finding his mate is the last thing on his mind. But when a young woman...