Chapter 5

Lyra POV

My eyelids were slow to pry open, like I was being woken from a coma.

What the hell happened?

My wolf was calm in my chest, but my heart was not as I remembered what had happened the night before.

“Shit, how long did I run for?” I whispered to myself, staring at my muddied bare feet, but my wolf gave no inkling as to what happened.

My fear of being caught drove her forward. I only had flashes of greens and browns as we raced through the night. I trusted my wolf. She wouldn’t put us in danger.

Wind ripped through my hair, causing goosebumps along my bare skin as I pushed myself off the ground. I used the moment to take a whiff of the area, trying to gauge where my wolf had taken us, but I got nothing.

We weren’t in an area I had been in before.

I tilted my head back to peer into the fir treetops, which was all I could see. We were high in elevation based on the trees and rock slabs, but too deep in the woods to see any discernible features like a mountain peak.

“Great,” I mumbled.

My muscles ached from running all night, and hunger pulled at my stomach, making both myself and my wolf more irritable than usual.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of water.

My inner wolf’s head perked up at the thought of taking a dip.

“We don’t have time for that,” I murmured. But we did need water. My tongue was like sandpaper. “No swimming, just resting.”

Content enough, my wolf settled back down inside me, and I turned to march deeper into the woods.

When I first bolted, before my wolf pushed me deeper inside, I had been sure to give a wide berth to where I had smelled the wolves, while staying away from the roads and any cars that would see me. This could now pose a problem since it’d be harder to figure out where I was. Usually, I could rely on my senses, never truly becoming lost, but I would most likely need to find a town to catch my bearings.

Damn wolf.

She let out a low snarl in return.

“You’re right. You saved our ass, thanks.” I chuckled, but my heart wasn’t in it.

I had liked my little town, the diner I found a job at. It’s the most settled I had been in a long while. I hated that I left Louie high and dry. I didn’t have a cell phone, so there was no way to call him to let him know I quit. It was shitty, but in the end, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

A small lake glinted between the trees. I slowed my steps. Water sources were the best place to come across . . . well, anything. An animal that needed water, a shifter that needed water, or even a human out camping or fishing.

I snuck through the trees, careful to place my toes only where there was no leaf litter or twigs. Every once in a while, I stopped to smell the air, but there was nothing but the smell of dirt and pine.

I found a smooth rock on the edge of the water beside a large boulder. It was a nice place to sit—difficult to leave my scent, and an easy place to take cover in case anyone showed up.

Settling down, a knot in my chest unwound with a deep breath. I always felt calmer near water, which was weird for a shifter. Don’t get me wrong. I loved the mountains, but even in Yosemite, I found excuses to drive out west to the ocean when I could. Which hadn’t been often.

I rolled my shoulders before putting my hands on my hips to admire the small grove. Tall trees circled the area, leaving little room between the forest and the water. A hawk sat on a branch to monitor its personal domain.

I nodded towards it, wanting to pay my respects to nature like my mother had taught me. Even if they couldn’t shift and communicate the way we could, that didn't mean they didn’t deserve appreciation.

A lump formed in my throat at the thought of her. I hope she is okay. I pushed it from my mind before guilt consumed me and made me do something stupid, like go racing back to her.

The water was clear enough that I saw shadows of fish under the surface. My stomach rumbled at the reminder of food. This was something I’d normally take advantage of, but I didn’t want any splashing to alert the attention of unwanted companions. Slinking to the edge of the rock, I cupped some crisp water in my hand.

With a slurp, the melted snow water fortified my belief I was in the upper Rockies. My eyes narrowed as I focused on what my senses told me about my location.

It no longer smelled like Colorado, at least not a part I had ever been to. My wolf would’ve stayed mostly within National Forest territory, keeping me away from the Yellowstone pack. So, I doubt we went west or south, and I was too high up to have gone east. But north . . .

I shook my head. North was stupid too. I must be south, even if the scent of the area didn’t match, but it would’ve been the safest and smartest. The only way to truly know was to find a town, or even a city.

Normally I stayed away from larger cities, but maybe it’d be easier to get lost in the crowd or mask my smell in a larger place. Although the chances of coming across shifters there would be greater.

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. Gulping down another handful of water, I sighed with resignation. Either way, I needed supplies and clothes. Big or small, a town was my best bet. Afterward, I could catch a Greyhound bus and get as far away as possible. I should be able to scrounge up enough money for that—after all, it was a lot faster than walking.

I scooped another handful of water.

“I want to go home,” a small voice cried out, distant but clear as a cold breeze.

I froze.

“I know. I’m trying,” a slightly older, but still young, voice responded.

I ducked behind the boulder as two children stepped up to the water’s edge across the small lake.

The older one couldn’t have been more than twelve. He stopped at the water’s edge with a frown. Beside him, a younger boy, perhaps eight, slumped onto the ground.

“My feet hurt.” Tears pricked the little boy's eyes, and his bottom lip trembled.

The older boy crouched next to him, throwing his arm over the other’s shoulders. “All we need to do is find a trail, and we’ll be home soon.”

Together, they both sniffed the air.

I grabbed the rock until my fingertips turned white, slowly scenting the air myself. I was downwind of them, which was good, and this allowed for their smell to travel to me.