Emily’s perspective:
Sore from my bout with Terrance, I take my time rising to all fours. As I stand, watching the stained teeth of the wolf who saved me from certain death approach, my legs tremble, but not in fear. The tremors moving up and down my weakened extremities are the result of pure exhaustion and thankfulness that the coat of progressive brown hues which mark this wolf who saved me arrived just in the nick of time.
The internally spoken words of the shifter drift into my perked ears via our connection with a mix of relief and worry. “You look alright. Are you alright?
My hoarse throat attempts an answer, but Austin nervously continues.
“I was afraid you weren’t. We hadn’t parted ways more than a few minutes before I caught wind of another shifter. It was faint, but I knew it came from the direction you were going in. I came as fast as I could.”