Page 66 of The Last Sanctuary

Cautiously, she peeked her head out of the lean-to, pushing aside a pile of dead leaves. She crawled out and stood. Her muscles ached. Her teeth felt furry, her tongue thick and gunky. She rubbed her gritty eyes.

At the edge of the small clearing, both wolves stood side by side, facing the trees to the west. Shadow’s ears flattened. Luna growled low in her throat.

Raven froze, her hands going to the rifle.

Simultaneously, both wolves whirled and bolted into the forest.

She shivered against the chilly morning air. She was alone again. They would come back. They’d found her once. They could do it again.

Something rustled behind her.

She spun, raising the rifle, heart clenched. “Shadow?”

The hairs on Raven’s arms lifted, her scalp prickling. Something—or someone—was close. She could feel it.

Then she heard them. The distant sound of something large crashing awkwardly through the underbrush. Distinctly human noises reached her. Grunting and swearing. A gunshot went off. Then another.

The Headhunters.

They must have found Rex’s body. And now they were coming for her.

Returning to the lean-to, she seized her pack and shouldered it, then found a pine branch and attempted to smooth the ground around the lean-to and the fire pit. Most of the ground was covered in a film of fallen leaves, obscuring her footprints. That was good.

She headed deeper into the forest. Last night, it had been too dark to find a better hiding spot. Heart in her throat, she scanned the forest, looking for a place to disappear.

The Headhunters blundered through the woods somewhere behind her. They were big and clumsy in the forest. They were also strong, angry, and well-armed. They were drawing closer.

Near the roots of a fallen tree, a sliver of space gapped between trunk and earth, no taller than a foot. A huge, dense hydrangea bush nearly covered it completely. It would have to be good enough.

She shoved her pack into a space between the roots and covered it with handfuls of dead leaves, then scrambled over the side of the log and burrowed in the deep underbrush growing along its flank.

She managed to jam most of her body beneath the log. The rifle butt jammed against her shoulder. The barrel dug into herthigh. Reaching up, she bent several low branches of an oak leaf hydrangea, covering herself with its reddish-purple leaves.

The gnarled roots of the tree rose in pale and tangled knots above her. A centipede crawled beneath the sleeve of her jacket onto her bare arm. Something else crawled along her ankle. She stilled, inhaling the decaying scent of dead leaves, the sharp scent of pine.

If the Headhunters took the deer path that meandered nearby, they would bypass the fallen log and her childhood fort. She prayed fervently that they would walk right past her.

Nearby, another twig cracked. A bush rustled. Something large moved close to her location. Her pulse roared in her ears. She steadied her breathing, desperate to quiet her pounding heart. It felt like it would pound right out of her chest.

For several minutes, the forest seemed still and quiet. Small creatures rustled through the underbrush. The wind whispered through the pines as the sun rose and the deep darkness lightened to shades of gray.

More noises broke through the stillness. Footsteps approached. Raven held her breath. She closed her eyes, as if they couldn’t see her if she couldn’t see them.

Then the Headhunters were upon her. They crashed into the small clearing, breathing hard and cursing.

“You find anything, Dekker?” Vaughn asked.

“Found some footprints a ways back,” Dekker said, his voice so close she strained not to flinch. “If it hadn’t been so dark and damn foggy, I could have tracked her more easily.”

“We’ll find her,” Scorpio said. “She can’t have gone far.”

Dekker’s voice sparked with raw fury. “No one touches her but me.”

“Don’t worry,” Vaughn said. “You’ll avenge your brother. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You positive you don’t have any idea which way she went?” Scorpio asked gruffly.

She could hear him stomping around the underbrush a few yards from where she hid. Heavy footfalls, angry grunting steps.