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Chapter Five
Diana
Irun until my bare feet are scratched and bruised and the sun sinks low in the sky, and keep running after darkness falls.
I consider shifting—so I can move faster and heal the minor injuries on my feet before they get any worse—but if I do, I’ll have to leave my dress and cardigan behind, and I’m going to need clothes when I reach the human world.
I’ve only been caught naked by humans once.
My cousin, Pepper, and I went for a late-night scamper down the beach near her family’s home on Martha’s Vineyard. By the time we got back, a frat party was raging on the sand right in front of her house. We had no choice but to shift and try to sneak past them up the steps to her place.
But we were only fourteen and pretty shitty at sneaking around. And I swear frat boys have some kind of sick radar when it comes to spotting vulnerable young women.
A couple of the guys caught up with us halfway up the steps and started teasing us, asking if we’d been skinny dipping and if we wanted to go again. I’d never been embarrassed about being naked before, but that night I was mortified. And scared. The way those boys looked at me made me feel like a roasted chicken they couldn’t wait to pull apart with their bare hands.
Pepper’s dad came looking for us before things could get too creepy, but ever since then I’ve been super careful not to end up naked around humans.
Especially human men.
I’m already going to be running out of the woods all alone and seemingly helpless. If I’m naked to boot, that might be too much temptation for whatever mountain man I happen to encounter to resist, and I really don’t have time to rip a man’s throat out for trying to sexually assault me right now.
But then, there’s always a chance I’ll cross paths with a woman instead.
As I keep walking through the night, slowing my pace as I grow dehydrated and my muscles weaken with exhaustion, I mentally will a friendly, helpful old lady to pop up into my path along with the morning sun.
But morning dawns and I’m still so far from civilization that I can’t hear any traffic noises or smell the slightest hint of human habitation. And I’m so weary I know I have to stop to rest. At least for a little while.
Making my way down into a nearby valley, I find a river—I’m guessing the same one that flows close to Bane’s camp—and get a long drink. I splash water on my face and soak my aching feet for a few minutes while I ponder my options.
If I follow the river, I’m likely to reach civilization faster. Humans, especially in earlier times, tended to build close to rivers for water supply and easy access to water-based shipping and transportation. But if Bane has sent a tracking party to find me, they’ll be more likely to follow the river, too. They’ll know that I’ll need water to keep going and will be searching for signs of civilization.
But if I head back up onto the ridge, I could end up wandering the woods for days and starve to death.
As if agreeing that’s something we should be worried about, my stomach lets out a long, low grumble.
I’m already starving and wishing I’d forced down more of Kelley’s breakfast. Yesterday, I was too upset by all the domestic violence to eat, but I should have realized that I needed my strength.
But I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.
Because I’m freaking eighteen and until a week ago, I was positive telling my controlling older brother than I’m dating a cat shifter was the biggest drama bomb that could explode in my life.
But I was so wrong. And now Jacob is likely dead and maybe Maxim and Willow, too, and I’m lost and probably going to die alone in the woods and there will be no one left to warn everyone in the tower what’s coming for them.
The backs of my eyes begin to burn, but I’m too dehydrated to cry. All the water I just drank hasn’t had time to get to my eyeballs, I guess.
I sit there on the bank, my face stinging and my shoulders shaking, but no tears coming out. And then I pull myself together, get back on my feet, and suck in a deep, head-clearing breath.
I don’t have time to fall apart. I have to keep going.
I start back up the ridge, deciding to split the difference. I’ll follow the river, but at a distance so I won’t be easily spotted by anyone else doing the same. And I’ll look for edible plants as I go. It’s too late in the season for dandelions, which I know are safe to eat, but I might be able to find some blackberries still on the vine or grubs under a log. I just need something in my stomach to keep it from snarling.
Three hours later,I’ve found nothing to eat, the cuts on my feet are throbbing, and I’m on the verge of shifting and giving up on my clothes in hopes that my wolf’s nose will be able to catch signs of civilization my human one is missing, when I catch a low thunking sound on the breeze.
I pause, my ears pricking as I strain to hear where it’s coming from.
Up, I think…
I leave the ridge, climbing higher on a nearby mountain, following the thunk. It starts and stops, starts and stops, establishing a pattern that makes me think it must be an axe. Someone is up there cutting wood. And they’re probably a solo someone, not an entire lumber crew or there would be more than one axe working at a time.
