One month later…
Mazelina, a rose gold wolf, paced her den in restlessness. Her paws ached, her back ached, her neck ached, but she had to keep up her exercise. Around her, there were piles of wastes of several kinds, shredded linen, and rat carcasses still in the decaying stages. It stunk worse than anything she had ever smelled before, and yet, she wouldn't leave the den now. Not after a month of torture and bliss and disbelief.
Turk still had not come for her. She still had not been able to reach him, to warn him, to prepare him. It dawned on her a week ago that what Josiah said might be true and Turk would never find her, which meant she was going to be alone forever.
No, not forever! She growled at herself and paced some more, paws dirty with bodily fluids and dirt and rat-ness. She had gotten used to the filth a while ago, when it became apparent at how long she would be here.
