Freya's POV
There was anarchy on the battlefield. Wolves were snarling and biting everywhere I looked, and the air was filled with cries of agony and despair. The ground below us was covered in blood, and I yelled, "Hold the line!" while my heart raced. Keep each other safe! My voice broke, but I was unable to stop. It was over for us all if I gave up now.
I saw a young wolf, his leg seriously bleeding, struggling through the chaos. His age could hardly have exceeded sixteen. As I ran toward him, my chest constricted, and I managed to grab him before he fell.
I put my hands on his wound to stop the bleeding and assured him, "You're going to be okay." Panic grabbed at my throat, but I forced myself to smile as his huge, scared eyes peered up at me.
"Freya! When I heard Finnick's voice, I turned to find him running in my direction. He had a large gash on his shoulder and his fur was matted with blood.
