Blind Wolf (A Werewolf BBW Shifter Romance #1)(14)

. Although at the time he had been blind, he saw himself now in his dream as though he was an invisible bystander. In bed, Damien twisted the sheets between his hands. He knew what he would see soon, and it wasn't a nice picture.

They stopped to roll against some small pine trees. The sharp smell of the pine might help to camouflage them in case the packs hadn't yet gone far. They walked on resolutely. The scents grew stronger and stronger, and any crackling of a branch stopped them in their tracks. It was slow going. In one narrow passageway, the scent of wolves grew so strong that Damien thought that he might bolt at the slightest sound. There was no other way. They padded through the snow in silence, rounding the corner where the passageway opened up.

It was the scene of the fight. Blood had stained the ground in dark puddles and bright splashes where the snow drifts hadn't yet melted, and the smell overpowered Damien's nostrils. Dead bodies of wolves lay strewn across the clearing, their fur damp with blood and the sweat that had not yet dried from their bodies. As they stepped slowly through the clearing, Damien's paws occasionally brushed against the corpses and he would draw back.

"Recent fight," Jordan said.

Damien sniffed the air, swiveling his head. He thought he scented—he thought he heard—

"Wolf," he said, moving closer to Jordan. "Somewhere close. Do you hear the breathing?"

Jordan paused and listened. Damien's muscles were tense, his body crouched and ready to fight if need be. The breathing grew louder, and then there was a whimper.

"Is that...?" Jordan said.

"What? What is it?" Damien twitched, his tail bristling, his teeth bared.

"It's one of the bodies," Jordan said, and then he trotted away from Damien's side. Damien followed his footsteps towards the source of the breathing noise.

"She's not dead," Jordan said, stopping short of the body. "She's a young one."

The wolf was laying on her side. Damien pushed past Jordan and sniffed over her wound. It was deep. She had been sliced open the entire way across her stomach by sharp teeth or claws. Her intestines were exposed, blood puddling and matting her fur down. Damien could smell her fear.

"Please—"

Damien flinched at the sound. He had not expected her to be able to talk. From the wound, she seemed close to death. She growled softly, a low purr that made its way through Damien's nerves and tore at his heart.

"If you want to eat me, please kill me first."

"Where did the other wolves go?" Jordan asked. "Which direction?"

The female wolf breathed sharply in, wincing in pain.

"We can help you," Damien said. He turned his head to Jordan. "You can help, can't you?" He could hear Jordan beside him, examining her wound.

"You can't help me," the girl wolf said. "I'm dying. I tried to shift..."

"Why? You would die of cold," Damien said, confused.

"That's what I'd hoped," she said. Despite her pain, there was a note of humor in her voice. "Better than dying of this."

"What's your name?" Damien asked.

"Katherine." Katherine lay her head back onto the snow, breathing deeply. "It's almost time."

"What can you do?" Damien asked Jordan.

"You can't do anything," Katherine said. "I saw what happened. I won't live. My stomach..."

"I might be able to help," Jordan said, licking the edge of her wound. "I'm a doctor. What direction did the other wolves go?"

"Northeast," Katherine said. There was a hint of fright in her voice, as though hope had given her reason to fear. "The other pack went due south; that's where their territory is."

"We need to get her somewhere warm," Jordan said. "I need to be able to shift. This is going to be delicate work."

"There was an empty cabin a few miles back," Damien said. "I could carry her."

"You'd shift into human form?"

"Can you think of another way?"

Jordan paused.

"No. Alright. Let's go fast; you'll freeze to death if we don't. Do you remember the way?"

"I'll just follow you back."

Damien breathed in and shifted, feeling his fur dissolve. He quickly pulled on the cloak he kept in his pack, but he had nothing for his feet. No matter. He bent over and picked up Katherine, making sure to press her wound tightly so that her intestines would not spill. She yelped as he picked her up. She weighed nearly nothing.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"My stomach—" Katherine said.

"I'll hold it." Damien clutched her tightly to his chest. She grabbed his wrist, her fingers slippery with blood.

"Help me," she said. Her voice was scared, and Damien realized that she was younger than he had thought. A teenager. "Don't let me die."

"We won't," Damien said, although the front of his cloak was already soaked in blood and he wasn't sure he was telling her the truth.

"Thank you," Katherine said, nuzzling his arm. He began to walk.

Here the dream departed from reality. That day, Damien had carried Katherine over three miles of snowy terrain to an empty cabin nearby, and Jordan had worked for hours to clean and stitch up her wound while Damien had warmed his feet back from the threat of frostbite. They'd caught food and lived there in fear for two weeks, until Katherine was healthy enough to walk. She'd insisted on coming with them, and they agreed readily. A female in the pack was more than welcome.