Rhiannon sighed wearily and sat down on a rock, looking up at the cluster of huge buildings rising in front of her. She had been walking much of the night and all day, crossing the countryside and skirting villages, faithfully following Raksha’s instincts.

“We could move faster if you’d let me out,” the she-wolf protested.

“And what do you think a white wolf will look like in the middle of these places? I’m weird enough with hair this color, imagine a wolf your size.”

Raksha grumbled, but she knew her lycan was right. Rhiannon mustered her strength and stood up again, deciding which way was more viable to go around the group of buildings, but as soon as she was closer, a muffled growl brought her to her senses.

They must have been perhaps a hundred paces away, but the smell of lycan blood was undeniable. They were hurting him.

Rhiannon didn’t even think about it, all of her instincts had been honed for protecting her race since birth. Maybe she still wasn’t as strong as she used to be