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They both knew how dangerous a warthog could be—even for a wolf. He searched around the area, noticing the large boot print in the soft soil. It looked fresh.

“Well, we know what at least one shifter is,” Peterson muttered.

“Let’s shift. We need to find those sons-of-shifters,” he replied.

He pulled the modified bag off his shoulders, stripped, and shifted. Peterson did the same, placing their clothing into the bag. Van stood still while Peterson attached the bag to his back and tightened the straps. Once the bag was secure, Peterson shifted.

They took off, following the distinctive odor of the warthog. His paws dug into the forest floor, kicking up dirt behind him. Peterson kept pace with him, clearing a fallen tree that blocked the path.

Jayden warily sank down on a boulder near the river. She winced when the movement pulled on the deep line of scratches that ran along her lower left leg. She was silently cursing her carelessness. Fear had made her clumsy and was probably going to get her killed.

She bent forward and studied the bloodied material. There was another rip in her hiking pants. Muttering a string of curses under her breath, she rolled up the thin material to study the wound.

She gritted her teeth when she noticed the ragged lines.

They stung enough to bring tears to her eyes when she dabbed at the blood seeping down her leg.

In her haste to put as much distance between herself and the two strange shifters she knew were tracking her, she had shredded her leg on some saw vines growing along a tree.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered as she retrieved a piece of gauze from the first aid kit in her bag.

The scent of her blood would be strong. It wouldn’t take long for the shifters chasing her to pick up on it. Her hands trembled as she pressed the rectangular cotton pad against her leg and held it there to stem the blood.

She breathed in through her nose and released through her mouth at the pain. To help distract herself, she focused on the river. Her best chance of escaping her two pursuers was to float downstream as far as possible before they detected her scent.

Studying the contents of the small first aid kit, she pulled out a round package and squeezed it. Tearing open the paper surrounding it, she breathed a sigh of relief at the thin, breathable fabric. She adjusted the gauze pad over the deepest cuts and wrapped it around her leg.

A light breeze caught the wrapping from the bandage and blew it out of her reach. She couldn’t grab it without letting go of the bandage. A choked laugh slipped from her when it was suddenly caught by a sharp talon. The owl fluttered onto a nearby boulder with the white paper crumpled in his claw.

“Thank you,” she said.

She glanced behind her when the owl turned its attention to the tree line and ruffled his feathers. A sense of urgency filled her. How had the two shifters from earlier circled back?

Releasing a shaky breath, she hurriedly tied off her makeshift bandage, looked up, and studied the river again.

The current was strong here. She would have to be careful of the boulders that littered it and hope that she didn’t get pulled under.

There was a higher-than-average chance that she would drown, but it was a chance she would have to take if she wanted to escape being captured by that nasty-smelling shifter.

If she remembered correctly, there were a series of small waterfalls a little over a mile downriver. She could handle them. She would need to reach shore after the second one, though. There was a higher waterfall shortly after the second falls that she wouldn’t survive.

The crack of a branch hitting the ground behind her sent her to her feet in a panic. Her heart thudded as she scanned for the source. It wasn’t until she located it that she breathed a sigh of relief.

The noise came from a dead limb that had broken off a nearby tree where the owl had perched. She shook her head at the creature when it tilted its head and studied her. A reluctant smile curved her lips when it fluttered its feathers.

“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.