The wolf moved just ahead, glancing over its shoulder every few steps as if counting that she was still there. Wind howled through the tunnel, carrying a smell of rotten kelp and something sharper—tar, maybe, or oil.
Halfway through, she debated making a break for it once they reached daylight again. Yet if she sprinted, the wolf’s long legs would outrun her in seconds. The animal hadn’t shown its teeth since the beach, but the memory of that snarl still burned behind her ribs.