The air was damp and cold, making it hard to breathe. His fingers were stiff from the chill, his limbs heavy with fatigue. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, each step harder than the last. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until he found Thunder.
The darkness was playing tricks on his eyes. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made his heart leap in his chest. Was it Thunder? Or something else? George’s mind raced, filled with images of wolves or worse lurking just beyond his line of sight.