Chapter 3
Ned
Ishook my kill in my mouth, snarls filling the frigid air.
The towering pines witnessed my flawless hunt, and I liked to think they would shout their approval if they could.
The wind shifted. Suddenly, the giant wolves surrounding me bayed for blood.
Someone had approached their territory and the pack would let no one further than the border of Sombermane.
They streaked into the dark, parting the cold mist around them like swirling shadows.
I pushed to keep up with them, muscles straining with every stride.
Snow sifted down on us as we flew through the gloam, pounding pine needles into the forest floor with our speed.
Great chuffs of air helped me run faster, but also brought the scent of my favorite person.
The carcass of my latest kill clamped in my mouth, I bounded forward into the night–jaw tight, teeth sharp.
I was fearless. I was the wind and the fury. I was a good boy.