pack of wolves do to them if they were caught?
She held her head up to watch the trees. Please, no wolves. No wolves.
There. A gray beast burst into the meadow. The thing was as tall as a cart pony, bigger than any wolf she’d ever heard of, more like a Wolfhound, but with even more bulk. It dropped its head and drove forward on long legs that ate up the distance between them. Two more wolves emerged from the forest.
“They’re coming,” she said.
“I hear them. How many?”
“Three. No, four, five. Christ, six. The sixth is smaller.” Their long-haired coats varied from gray to brown. Each one flashed deadly-looking fangs. And they were gaining.
Riggs plunged them back into the forest.
The light dimmed. ’Twas eerily quiet save for his pounding footsteps until the wolves entered the trees. The tattoo of dozens of swift paws multiplied in her ears like brittle thunder.
Riggs skidded to a stop.
This was it. She didn’t mind dying, but the thought of Riggs going with her rent a gash in her soul.
“Just throw me to them!” she cried. He’d be able to run faster without her. Better only one of them get killed than both. “Get away with you! Run!”
Riggs hefted her into the air. “Grab on!” he shouted.
A sturdy tree limb appeared above her head. She grabbed for it with both hands and hooked her good leg around. The moment she was free of Riggs’s hold, the enormous gray wolf lunged for him.
Riggs spun with his axe at the ready. He was going to die fighting. Her protector. Her brave, brave wolf-man.
He swung his mighty axe while he threw himself to the side to dodge the leader’s fangs. The axe missed the beast’s haunches by a breath. Riggs hit the ground with a grunt but bounded to his feet in time to swing his axe at a second attacking wolf. His blade lifted the beast off the ground with a sickening crack to the ribs. Blood sprayed.
At least he would take one of the wolves with them into the afterlife. But there was no way he could survive the five remaining.
Four of them skidded into a snarling, writhing circle around him. The smaller wolf was nowhere to be seen. From her upside-down perch, she watched Riggs adopt a wide stance. He swiveled his head from wolf to wolf, assessing. Which would attack first?
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A large brown one flattened its ears. Riggs drew his hunting knife, doubly arming himself. The wolf crouched, ready to pounce.
A sharp pain tugged at her throat.
Och, Riggs’s cloak! She’d forgotten she was still wearing it. Something had grabbed the heavy wool as it dangled beneath her.
She clutched at the ties, trying to undo them one-handed while she clung to the branch.
There! The ties gave. The cloak jerked from her neck. She twisted to see the small wolf trying to shake the garment from its head. It was blinded, but not for long.
She released the branch and fell.
The ground knocked the wind from her and rattled her teeth. While she was still too numb to feel any pain, she drew the hunting knife Riggs had given her.
The small wolf stood over her, looking much larger from this angle. It shook the cloak free.
She didn’t give it a chance to attack her, or worse, to attack Riggs. She swung her arm in an arc. The blade ripped across the wolf’s throat. Blood gushed down its chest. Wide eyed, it stood over her. Would it attack while it bled to death?
She held the knife ready, but didn’t need to land another blow. The animal stumbled and went down.
A thud sounded behind her. Then a whimper.
She rolled over to find Riggs striding to her, breathing heavy, covered in blood. He crouched and cupped her face in his hand.
“It’s over,” he said. “Come.”
Disbelief plowed over her. How could it be over? Could he have really slain five monstrous wolves while she’d fought the smallest one?
He scooped her up and tucked the rumpled cloak in her arms then picked up his axe. His powerful legs launched them into a run. She craned her
She held her head up to watch the trees. Please, no wolves. No wolves.
There. A gray beast burst into the meadow. The thing was as tall as a cart pony, bigger than any wolf she’d ever heard of, more like a Wolfhound, but with even more bulk. It dropped its head and drove forward on long legs that ate up the distance between them. Two more wolves emerged from the forest.
“They’re coming,” she said.
“I hear them. How many?”
“Three. No, four, five. Christ, six. The sixth is smaller.” Their long-haired coats varied from gray to brown. Each one flashed deadly-looking fangs. And they were gaining.
Riggs plunged them back into the forest.
The light dimmed. ’Twas eerily quiet save for his pounding footsteps until the wolves entered the trees. The tattoo of dozens of swift paws multiplied in her ears like brittle thunder.
Riggs skidded to a stop.
This was it. She didn’t mind dying, but the thought of Riggs going with her rent a gash in her soul.
“Just throw me to them!” she cried. He’d be able to run faster without her. Better only one of them get killed than both. “Get away with you! Run!”
Riggs hefted her into the air. “Grab on!” he shouted.
A sturdy tree limb appeared above her head. She grabbed for it with both hands and hooked her good leg around. The moment she was free of Riggs’s hold, the enormous gray wolf lunged for him.
Riggs spun with his axe at the ready. He was going to die fighting. Her protector. Her brave, brave wolf-man.
He swung his mighty axe while he threw himself to the side to dodge the leader’s fangs. The axe missed the beast’s haunches by a breath. Riggs hit the ground with a grunt but bounded to his feet in time to swing his axe at a second attacking wolf. His blade lifted the beast off the ground with a sickening crack to the ribs. Blood sprayed.
At least he would take one of the wolves with them into the afterlife. But there was no way he could survive the five remaining.
Four of them skidded into a snarling, writhing circle around him. The smaller wolf was nowhere to be seen. From her upside-down perch, she watched Riggs adopt a wide stance. He swiveled his head from wolf to wolf, assessing. Which would attack first?
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A large brown one flattened its ears. Riggs drew his hunting knife, doubly arming himself. The wolf crouched, ready to pounce.
A sharp pain tugged at her throat.
Och, Riggs’s cloak! She’d forgotten she was still wearing it. Something had grabbed the heavy wool as it dangled beneath her.
She clutched at the ties, trying to undo them one-handed while she clung to the branch.
There! The ties gave. The cloak jerked from her neck. She twisted to see the small wolf trying to shake the garment from its head. It was blinded, but not for long.
She released the branch and fell.
The ground knocked the wind from her and rattled her teeth. While she was still too numb to feel any pain, she drew the hunting knife Riggs had given her.
The small wolf stood over her, looking much larger from this angle. It shook the cloak free.
She didn’t give it a chance to attack her, or worse, to attack Riggs. She swung her arm in an arc. The blade ripped across the wolf’s throat. Blood gushed down its chest. Wide eyed, it stood over her. Would it attack while it bled to death?
She held the knife ready, but didn’t need to land another blow. The animal stumbled and went down.
A thud sounded behind her. Then a whimper.
She rolled over to find Riggs striding to her, breathing heavy, covered in blood. He crouched and cupped her face in his hand.
“It’s over,” he said. “Come.”
Disbelief plowed over her. How could it be over? Could he have really slain five monstrous wolves while she’d fought the smallest one?
He scooped her up and tucked the rumpled cloak in her arms then picked up his axe. His powerful legs launched them into a run. She craned her
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