Voices echoed behind her, shouts and whistles cutting through the storm. Elise pressed forward alone, determined to reach them first. The forest closed in, branches clawing her face. She remembered Shadow as a mewling cub, tiny paws clinging to her sleeve. Now each memory twisted with fear of what he’d become.
A blue scarf snagged on a bramble stopped her cold—rockets stitched along the fabric, Theo’s favorite. Nearby, paw prints circled, pressed close to smaller footprints. Elise’s breath quickened. The patterns weren’t violent, not chasing, but accompanying. Yet who would believe that? To others, it would scream predator and prey.