Phoebe's POV
The tree hollow pressed against me like a coffin.
My ribs ached from squeezing into the narrow gap, but the moment I felt something warm and furry brush against my arm, my heart nearly stopped.
A wolf pup. Barely a few weeks old, judging by its size.
I'd spent countless hours watching pups near our cabin during those long months when Perry was away fighting. This little one couldn't have been born more than three weeks ago.
The tiny creature immediately pressed against me, seeking warmth I desperately needed too. Its small body trembled—whether from cold or fear, I couldn't tell.
Outside my hiding spot, death stalked through the forest.
The three warriors who'd lured me away from the pack house circled past my tree again and again. Their boots squelched in the mud just inches from my face.
They had no idea about the hollow carved deep into the ancient oak's trunk.
"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?!"
