But that’s another worry for later. For now, I need to deal with my most pressing issue which is that I’m very definitely and hopelessly lost.In the woods. With no supplies and no survival skills when it comes to this kind of setting.
Until a few days ago, I spent my whole life in Vegas, venturing past the city limits only rarely, and this city boy doesn’t know what the fuck to do with all the trees and plants and hills and crap.
Not to mention, I’m stuck in fur unless I want to walk around naked.In the woods. That’s a big no from me. All these poky sticks and thorny bushes are bad enough with fur to protect me. My fragile human skin will not fare half as well.
I huff and plop my furry butt down on the layer of leaves—and dirt and who knows what—on the forest floor to take stock of my situation.
Finding Blake is my number one priority, but I have no idea how the hell I’m going to do that, especially without knowing who I’mup against. I didn’t get more than a quick glance at the two shifters who ambushed us—how the hell did they find us anyway?—but I did see what looked an awful lot like the triumvirate’s logo on the shirts they were wearing.
Does that mean they were praetorians? How did they even find us all the way out here?
I haven’t had many dealings with the triumvirate, but a couple of their officers randomly accosting two shifters out in the middle of nowhere doesn’t seem like normal operating procedure.
But that’s a mystery that’s going to go unsolved, because right now, my focus needs to be on figuring out where the hell I am, and getting my ass out of Rockcastle territory before somebody catches me.
I sneeze and scratch at my ear, then glance around at my surroundings, hoping for some small sign of civilization, but there’s nothing but trees. And more trees. Lifting my nose, I sniff at the air. The basic earthy scent of vegetation—fucking trees—is strongest, but there are hints of other things. Like wildlife, what must be a creek somewhere, and a distant whiff of wood smoke.
The smell of smoke isn’t strong enough to be a forest fire—at least I damn sure hope not—and the scent of cooking meat is layered within it. I’m going to guess the main pack compound isin that direction, making that way a definite no-go and leaving me with… about a million other options.
I let out an irritated huff. Knowing what directionnotto go in is slightly helpful, but not enough for me to find my way out of here.
Maybe I should head to the creek? Isn’t that a thing people are supposed to do if they get lost in the woods? Find some water and follow the flow or something?
I’m not sure whether I’m remembering that correctly or not, but it gives me a direction to travel in, and I can always change course if I need to. There’s no way I’m not going to be lost in these woods forever, right?
Nope. I refuse to even think about that.
I push to my feet and, nose to the ground, pad my way toward the smell of water. By the time I run across a narrow creek a few minutes later, it feels like I’ve inhaled a whole damn tree’s worth of pine needles. I sneeze and paw at my nose, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation.
I really hate the woods.
The creek is only a foot wide or so, but the water is moving so “going with the flow” won’t be an issue. Hopefully it leads me to civilization. Or at least a road that can take me to civilization.
Anywhere but the damn woods.
I squish my way along the muddy bank of the creek. My paws quickly become wet and caked with dirt, but I keep moving, a new sense of hope growing in my chest.
Wolves are animals, I guess, so even if I personally haven’t spent much time in the woods, my wolf should know what he’s doing, right? I nod to myself, answering my own question. Going this way feels right somehow, so I must be going in the right direction, trusting my gut and all that.
At first, progress is slow. I stop every twenty feet or so to look around to see if the trees have thinned or a gas station has suddenly appeared, but after the tenth disappointment I just keep my nose down and follow the water. The creek widens, nearly doubling in size, and the banks grow taller, forcing me to walk inside the shallow ravine they create.
This is definitely working. The creek will lead me somewhere, I’m sure of it.
I can do this.
So overconfident in my new “survival” skill upgrade, I don’t even notice the other shifter until I’m right on top of him. Or, rather, he’s up on the bank looking down at me, my legs splattered with mud as I splash through the creek.
A second shifter comes to stand next to the first, raising a brow as he stares at me now frozen in place. They’re both wearing uniformssimilar to the two who ambushed me and Blake, and now I can clearly identify the triumvirate’s logo on their shirts. Definitely praetorians then.
That’s… not a good sign.
“I think that’s him,” says the first guy.
Oh shit. That’s even worse.
I take two slow steps backward, but the other shifters are faster. Or, more accurately, better prepared, because a third shifter jumps down into the creek behind me, blocking my retreat. And this one is holding a small, silver pistol.
A dart gun, my mind supplies.
