The wolf whined behind her. Noemi looked up; cottage lights shimmered in the distance. “I’ll take care of it,” she promised, voice shaking. Whether the wolf understood or not, she had to try. She turned toward the tunnel.
The wolf followed but stopped at the far mouth, sitting in the shadows. A low whimper drifted after her—part warning, part plea. She nodded once, a silent oath, then started to run. The path to the cottages felt twice as long now.