Louis raced through the forest in wolf form, both of Anne’s friends racing behind him even though he hadn’t told them why he was running in the first place. He couldn’t tell them, he couldn’t speak. All he could think of was her voice, crying out to him. And the pain, the pain he now knew without having to be told was hers. She was hurt and she was crying out for him. That was all he could think of. And all he could say was, ‘Hold on. I’m coming, just hold on’.

He felt her slipping away and he pushed forward, running faster than he’d ever run in his...