1. Ylfa
Mud squelches beneaththe pads of my feet as I rush through a large, conifer forest, and it feels as if I’m flying. This is what true freedom tastes like, after all, and I will grasp it by the claws.
No more pack politics, and no more vicious, angry wolves who wish to kill me. I am as Mother Nature intended me to be: free.
Best of all, I have my mates with me now. We will be our own pack from now on. Three against the world.
Silver purrs in deep satisfaction as we race between the tall trunks of pines, our paws barely touching the pine-covered ground. She’s unstoppable. We’re unstoppable. It’s like I have a pair of wings, continuously beating forth as they push me forward. I’m on a mission, and that’s to save the shifter and the human races.
War is looming between our species, and I won’t allow that to happen. As I promised Luna, the moon spirit, I will befriend Raven, the human prophesied to destroy the shifter race. I will put an end to any conflict before it arises.
I am the wolf savior, and I can save us all.
I helped her escape the clutches of my alpha. So hopefully she’ll be willing to cooperate. That’s why my mates and I track down her scent.
A few days have passed since we were banished from the pack, yet I can still pick up on her sharp, citrus smell. However, the scent is faint. Maybe the humans have learned how to mask their scents from us wolves?
Now that would be the day...
But then her scent picks up yet again, even stronger than the last time, and I can almost taste her on the roof of my mouth.
We’re not so sure how humans travel. They no longer use automobiles like they did a hundred years ago, but they tend to travel by foot. Well, according to the elders’ knowledge.
We seldom get to study humans in the wild since they’re a secretive species. We’re aware of separated clusters around the globe, but as far as shifters are concerned, there are no large populations. No more sprawling cities or busy towns, just small settlements here and there.
Patrick yips ahead of us, and Hunter and I hurry to his side. His sandy brown wolf extends his nose like a pointer dog, and we follow the direction of his snout.
There we find a ripped sock and a strand of ebony hair.
My heart thumps against my ribs.
It’s Raven, and that’s her sock. It’s rank and smells to the high heavens, but by no fault of her own. She was down in that dungeon for weeks, after all.
Hunter cackles, his wolf’s orange eyes gleaming humorlessly as they fix on Patrick. The bookworm is still standing like a pointer breed, and I have no idea why.
We just leave him to it. He’s strange like that.
Thanks, Fido. You’re such a good boy, sniffing out the human female’s smelly sock for us...
Hunter’s still laughing by the time Patrick shakes his fur out, and now his bright ocean eyes settle on Hunter.
Hey, it worked, didn’t it? I found a scent, and you both came running.
Only because you looked so ridiculous. Did you learn that move in a book, Paddy, my friend?
Patrick huffs, stamping his foot. Yes, actually. A book on working dog breeds. Humans bred dogs to perform all kinds of work for them, and I think it’s fascinating. Maybe if we can prove ourselves just as useful too, they may adopt us—
Both of you, stop.
Hunter and Patrick stop their friendly banter, concentrating on me now. Raven’s scent appears to have stopped in this area, and something doesn’t feel right.
Why is her sock just lying here? Did it slip off her foot in her bid to escape? But why the strand of hair? It’s tied up with a drawstring, and I have the strangest of feelings...
This is odd.
No human would leave behind such a garment. Clothes are rare for them to come by this day and age.
What’s happening?