They ran the boundary line instead of the road, which cut the distance nearly in half and put them through terrain no wolf crossed at speed without knowing it, root systems and loose scree and the old collapsed den that had swallowed a scout whole four years back. Silvain took point without discussing it. Marina ran second, close enough that his heat reached her even through fur, the bond between them narrowed down to something almost wordless, direction and threat and the specific rhythm of his stride telling her more than language could have.

Ragnar caught them a quarter mile out, dropping down from the ridge line with two Shadowpaw...