crops.
Daeryn quickened his pace and raced up a long rolling hill. Alone, dammit. Every one of them was alone now, the team’s routine of patrols and backup totally abandoned. How long before they found Jac, returned and made a full rotation of the eight hundred acres? Long enough the usual farm vermin would have full bellies.
He crested the rise, his lungs burning. Below, at the far side of the root crops, Maraquin’s large wolf form ran, tail up and nose to the ground, tracing Terrent’s scent. Or, more likely, Jac’s. Maraquin’s long-standing beta position to Jac went back to their home pack in the Wildlands shire, so their detection of each other was flawless. The wolf came to an opening at the woods’ edge and entered.
Daeryn followed on the same path, one of the network all the animacambires used for excursions off-property. His sensitive ears picked out Maraquin’s paw beats, fainter, more distant than he’d thought they’d be. He bounded after her, autumn leaves scattering under his paws and filling his nostrils with their earthy scent.
Fifty feet, a hundred, five hundred. The stream lay twenty times this distance away. Was Jac there? Closer? Farther? Safe? Daeryn stopped thinking and ran.
Minutes, and a mile later, barking broke out ahead.
Maraquin. Her vocalization had an edge to it, one that stopped his breathing for the endless moment it took for an answering bark.
It rasped. Jac. Close. Alive. He shot forward, running with all his might. Maraquin barked again, and this time the return call came deep and strong—alpha-like. When Maraquin issued forth a series of growls and barks that could only be the telling off of her packmate, Daeryn slowed and filled his lungs.
Hell, Jac was fine. Probably full of herself, returning from a needless search that expended everyone’s energy and left the property open to other invaders.
By the time he caught up to them, the wolves were rolling in an outright fight, the beta Maraquin for once taking on her headstrong alpha. Leaves, dirt, fur and snarls flew in confusion. He couldn’t tell which was faring better, but he’d take a piece of that action. With a burst of energy, he raced forward and leaped. His nose verified the landing pad was some part of Jac’s anatomy, so he sank his claws and let loose a series of spitting cries and growls, a pissed-off message in any language.
She froze beneath him, then tried to shake him off like water from a puddle. Daeryn clung, the muscles of his smaller European polecat form tight with the effort.
I’ll show you—
The heavy body, and whiff, of a lynx slammed them sideways—their teammate Zar. Daeryn landed with a jolt several feet away.
Just as well. He rolled over and crouched up against a log, gasping.
Apparently, Zar was even angrier than he’d been. The lynx danced a mean streak, pouncing, snarling and biting at the thick fur of Jac’s ruff and hindquarters. She twisted and snapped her heavy jaws at him, but between his agile moves and Maraquin’s worked-up anger, the fight raged on, bloodless, but just barely.
Any longer and the integrity of the team might be damaged. Daeryn shifted and swatted at the nearest furry rump. “Break it up.”
Maraquin rounded on him and growled, but sank on her haunches and shifted. Her thick, black hair fell across her face and shoulders, with the rest of her front hidden behind crossed muscular arms and the shadows of her bent knees.
Zar shifted, too, but didn’t bother to cover his heaving chest or the rest of his body. He threw his broad, muscular physique aggressively back and forth, yelling between gasps, “What the hell? What the hell were you doing…taking off alone? Trying to get yourself…maimed? No one knows what that beast is capable of!”
Jac’s upper lip curled, but no snarl emerged.
Smart Jac, because any hint of her usual uppityness and Daeryn wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking her on, big carnivore or not. But she didn’t give him