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“Crazy owl. If only I had wings. I would rather fly away than swim like a fish,” she murmured before she slid the strap of her bag over her shoulders.

She limped toward the river’s edge. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the icy water and gritted her teeth. As she waded deeper, the cold water helped numb the pain in her leg.

At least I’ll have a little relief.

When she was waist deep, she sank down and pushed off. She was almost to the section where the current would pull her into the fast-moving water when some instinct warned her that she was no longer alone. She looked back at the tree line. The owl released a loud hoot of warning before it took off in the opposite direction.

Thank you for the distraction, my friend, she thought as the current gripped her in its icy fingers and began carrying her downriver.

Her last glimpse before her view was obscured by water and rocks was of two shifters emerging out of the forest. One was lean while the other was thick and hairy. She forced her body to relax and became one with the current, and allowed it to carry her away from the danger that had been following her.

Chapter 15

The black wolf came to a sudden halt, his senses heightened as he recognized a familiar scent in the air. As he pressed his nose to the ground, his head moved in a sweeping motion, searching for the origin of the elusive scent. As he moved through the dense foliage, branches rustled against his sides and the scent intensified.

Once he and Peterson detected the unmistakable odor of the shifter they were chasing, their pace quickened. The warthog left a trail that was impossible to miss, with its strong and distinct scent lingering in the air. As they got closer, the scent became more intense, confirming their proximity.

The scent, now stronger and more identifiable, mingled with the faint one, filling him with a sense of dread. The idea that the shifters were close to Jayden filled him with a deep, bone-chilling fear. Among the animal kingdom, warthogs stood out for their impressive strength, which allowed them to survive in the harshest of environments. Jayden’s slight frame made her vulnerable to unintentional harm, especially if she put up a fight, which he would be shocked if she didn’t.

“Hey, Van, I found something,” Peterson called.

His body went rigid as Peterson’s voice suddenly broke the silence, calling out his name. With a slight bend of his head, he released the pack he was carrying and felt the weight shift on his shoulders. With a quick movement, he bent over, unzipped the waterproof pack, and rapidly got dressed. He hopped as he put on a sock and slid his foot into a boot, then repeated the process. He scooped up the pack and zipped it as he navigated the narrow animal trail that had been cut through the brambles.

Tracks from deer and raccoons were visible in the soft ground. He twisted to avoid catching his pants on some razor vines that were mixed in. He ran his fingers over the deer hair that had become entangled on a branch. The delicate hairs were dislodged as soon as he touched them and floated away in the gentle breeze.

He stopped when he reached Peterson. Peterson had already shifted, changed into his clothes, and moved to a different location when they stumbled upon the newly made footprints. He watched as Peterson ran his fingers over the razor vine before lifting them to his nose and taking a sniff. Peterson’s expression turned into a scowl, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“I found a piece of clothing. It has Jayden’s scent on it,” Peterson replied.

Van accepted the piece of fabric from his friend and took a deep breath. Jayden’s scent permeated his senses, eliciting an instinctive reaction. He closed his eyes at the powerful response to even the slightest connection.

Mate.

He tightly gripped the fabric while his inner wolf let out a silent howl. They were getting closer. His eyes swept across the surrounding area.

Peterson proceeded further along the path before coming to another halt beside a sizable tree. Van carefully studied their surroundings, in particular searching for any signs of movement among the leaves and branches. Jayden’s people were well known for concealing themselves among the dense foliage of the canopy. Was it possible she was there—hiding, afraid to reveal herself?

“I found something else,” Peterson called out.

Van’s brow furrowed in response to the noticeable alteration in Peterson’s tone of voice. There was a sudden, unexpected catch in it. Determined, he pushed through the low brushes, ignoring the resistance of the foliage as he made his way to the tree. Peterson was crouched next to the trunk, examining it.

Peterson rose and held out his hand. “Blood.”

Van leaned forward and sniffed the tips of Peterson’s fingers. His nostrils flared at the tangy aroma of plant mixed with the scent of blood. The wolf in him strained to be released.

Mate hurt!

Calm, my friend. Calm. We will find her.

His canines extended, causing him to wince as he rolled his tongue over their sharpness. His wolf was obviously not interested in listening to him. He and Peterson had been keeping their wolves under tight control. The challenge in finding their mate was beginning to wear on them; especially knowing she was in imminent danger from other shifters.

“I would say the scent and tracks can’t be more than an hour old,” he replied, scanning the surrounding area.

“Let’s hope that the assholes chasing her didn’t find this as well,” Peterson muttered.

Van murmured in agreement. He squeezed past Peterson and walked down the trail at a slower pace, scanning the ground. There were no signs of a struggle. That gave him a small measure of hope.