Sara moved through the forest like a shadow given form, her body cutting through the darkness with a grace that no human could replicate.
Her feet barely touched the bark before she was already launching herself to the next branch, her fingers finding purchase on rough wood, her muscles coiling and releasing in a rhythm that had become second nature over centuries of hunting.
But her heart was racing, not from exertion, not from the thrill of the chase, but from the cold, gnawing unease that had been building in her chest ever since she had left Anaya sleeping in the hut.
The demonic aura had been faint at first, a distant whisper on the edge of her senses, but it had grown stronger with each passing hour, more concentrated, more deliberate.
She had left Anaya behind.
She had made sure the child was safe, had placed protective wards around the hut, symbols carved into the doorframe, lines of power traced in the dirt, a barrier that would repel any wolf that came too close.
