A Wolf Without a Pack
The primary night about slaughtered her.
Cold crawled into her bones, coldblooded and unwavering. Without shield, Lila had no choice but to keep moving. Each muscle in her body shouted for rest, weariness clawing at her with each step. Her uncovered feet were crude, the skin broken and dying.
Still, she squeezed on.
"You survived more regrettable," she reminded herself, in spite of the fact that her intellect battled to accept it.
The timberland thickened as she moved west, the fragrance of moist soil and pine blending with something more ominous—something new. This was rebel region presently, a place where survival was managed not by dependability or quality, but by sheer heartlessness.
She had entered a world where no one cared on the off chance that she lived or kicked the bucket.
By day break, her body was on the skirt of collapse. Her lips were chapped, her appendages solid from the cold. Starvation chewed at her inner parts, a gloomy but consistent hurt. Sh
