ELIA
Pain pushed her forward, ears back and tail lashing, nose to the wind.
The mate was near, she could sense him, but instinct raised every hair on her body. The little one was in danger—bears, voices, death—too many dangers, and pain to stop her feet. She had to find the mate.
But howls and calls rose through the WildWood—predators in alarm. She ducked her head and ran, sprinting between trees, following the wind to all the scents—the kin that was prey, the pride, they were all there—even the mate, though the trail was not fresh. The mate would be there also. He must.
The other within was weak, but insistent, her voice raising with the others. She shook her head until her ears snapped and ran on, grunting against the pain. But she could not allow others to sense it, could not show her weakness.
