Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Morning brings a flurry of activity as we prepare for our departure. Kier heads out early to hunt and forage while I transform what rags and blankets I can find into a makeshift pack. We’ll need to carry water, food, and what few weapons we’ve managed to cobble together.
By the time he returns with more rabbits and a handful of early spring greens, I’ve assembled a rough backpack torn from strips of cloth and hastily sewn together with a dull needle and some old thread.
“Impressive,” he says, eyeing my work.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile. “It’ll make do in a pinch.”
We spend the rest of the day in preparation—smoking meat over the fire, filling water containers, fashioning crude weapons from kitchen knives and broken furniture. By sunset, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.
Our last night in the cabin is quiet, filled with anticipation and unspoken concerns. We go to bed early, resting before our big push.
Despite my tiredness, I drift between wakefulness and sleep, Kier’s arm draped over my waist. My mind is full of thoughts of what’s to come, what’s become of my pack, what we’ll have to face.
And somewhere in those thoughts rests a question I can’t quite silence. Where does Kier fit in?
My wolf has her answer, of course. But I’ve spent too many years building walls around my heart to allow someone to slip in so easily, even when the pull is this strong.
Everyone I love dies, a voice whispers in the back of my mind. It’s the fear that’s shaped my life since I watched my parents die. It’s the reason I’ve kept all potential mates at arm’s length.
Attachment is a luxury I’ve never allowed myself. A vulnerability I can’t afford. Even now, with Kier’s steady breathing beside me and his arm a comforting weight around me, I fight the pull.
Dawn breaks crisp and clear, the forest awakening around our small cabin. I rise before Kier, slipping from the warmth of his embrace to check our supplies one last time. Everything is ready—our crude pack filled with what food and water we can carry, our makeshift weapons secured.
When Kier joins me, his eyes still heavy with sleep, I’m already dressed in the cleanest clothes I could piece together from the cabin’s meager offerings.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, offering him cold meat. “Let’s go home.”
He shoulders our pack, eating the meat from the spit as we leave the cabin. The forest is quiet around us, the morning mist clinging to the trees with like ghost-fingers. Despite the silver restraints still burning against our skin, there’s a lightness to our steps.
We’re moving toward safety.
As we walk, I find myself stealing glances at Kier. He moves with a silent, confident grace through the underbrush, his golden eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. Three years of captivity haven’t diminished his instincts or his will.
I wonder what he was like before he entered that prison. Did he always seek to protect the people around him, or did the prison force him to make choices he otherwise would never have made?
As if sensing my thoughts, he glances back, catching me watching him. A smile tugs at his lips.
“See something you like, Beta?” he teases.
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I refuse to look away. “Just making sure you can keep up, Nomad.”
His smile widens to a grin. “Race you to that ridge?” He points to a rocky outcrop about half a mile ahead.
Despite the ache in my side and the silver restraints, I find myself grinning back. “I have broken ribs.”
“Excuses.”
I eye the ridge. It’s not that far, and my ribs are healing nicely. What the hell. I need the energy burst.
I break into a run, weaving through trees and leaping over fallen logs, leaving Kier in my dust. He barks out a laugh, and I hear him give chase.
For a few precious minutes, we’re not escaped prisoners or wounded fighters. We’re just wolves, reveling in the simple joy of movement.
I reach the ridge barely a step ahead of him, laughing as I turn to face him. “I win!”
He’s laughing, his smile wide and easy and breathtaking. “So you did.”
For a moment, we just stand there, grinning at each other like fools. Then his expression sobers, his gaze shifting to something over my shoulder.
“Lithia,” he says quietly, “look.”
I turn, following his gaze, and my breath catches for an entirely different reason.
From this vantage point, we can see for miles—the forest stretching below us, the mountains towering behind. And in the distance, a plume of dark smoke rising into the clear morning sky.
“Wild fire?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
Kier shakes his head. “Too dark and controlled.” He points to another plume, farther east. “There’s another one. And there.”
I count five distinct smoke columns, forming a rough circle to the north of the area we’ve just left.
“Search parties,” I say grimly. “Burning as they go.”
Kier nods. “They’re systematically searching the area. Working inward and down toward the mountain.”
“They’re looking for us.”
“And making sure we can’t hide.” He turns to me, his expression grave. “We need to move.”
I nod, the brief moment of lightness gone. “We’ll keep to the high ground as much as possible. Use the streams and rivers to hide our scent.”
We set off again, pushing harder now, silent as we move through the forest. The journey we’d planned had been a slower one, accounting for our injuries. Now we’re in a race against time.
The sun climbs higher, the air warming, but a shift rides the breeze—faint, acrid, unmistakable.
Smoke.
I pause, lifting my nose to the wind. Kier does the same beside me, his brow furrowing as he tastes the air.
“That’s… close,” I murmur.
He rumbles his agreement, scanning the tree line.
Another gust of wind, this time sharp enough to sting the back of my throat. My stomach knots.
“They’re not behind us anymore,” Kier says, voice tight.
A crow caws overhead, harsh and jarring in the unnatural hush.
“We’re not outrunning this, are we?” I whisper.
His jaw tightens, eyes flicking golden as the wolf stirs just beneath his skin.
“No,” he murmurs. “We have to go into it.”