I didn’t know what had happened to Hunter. He could have tripped and knocked his head against a boulder, or he could have been attacked by a wild animal… or a shifter.
Dirt and leaves kicked up behind me as I picked up speed.
The sun shined high in the sky, no longer shielded by clouds. We’d been searching for what felt like hours. I was beginning to feel defeated when a firm nudge nearly made me tumble.
I regained my footing and looked to Asher. Seeing he had my attention, he raced off. I followed.
In minutes, we reached the bottom of the same rocky cliff we’d stood on top of hours ago.
I didn’t see Hunter, but a deep inhale confirmed he was somewhere nearby.
Asher scenting skills were impressive. I could barely pick up Hunter’s scent, much less have followed it to this spot. I was shocked to remember how I’d been the one to smell the first deer.
Asher disappeared on the other side of the large boulder, separating the rocky ledge from the rest of the cliff’s face.
Taking care not to slip, I padded after him. I made it all the way around the boulder and realized I stood at the opening of a cave.
Hunter’s scent floated out of the stale darkness. Relief washed over me, but it was ripped away when I inhaled the telling scent of copper and rusty iron.
Blood.
Heart racing, I ducked into the cave. I barely gave my wolf’s eyes time to adjust before I was moving through the darkness.
Hold on, Hunter. I’m almost there.
I continued forward, pulling back just before I ran into Asher’s backside.
He’d stopped and stared at something on the ground.
I knew it had to be Hunter.
I tried to squeeze myself between Asher and the rocky wall to our left, but he side-stepped to block my path. When I tried to pass him on the other side, he did the same.
I huffed and butted his hind leg with my head.
Still, Asher did not move.
When I nudged him again, he looked over his furry shoulder.
His green-tinted eyes glowed with meaning. They seemed to say,you don’t want to see this.
Like hell I didn’t.
Ignoring his silent warning, I forced my way through the space between Asher and the wall.
My wolf’s vision focused on the ground, and I moaned in horror.
There, tangled in a barbed net, lied Hunter. Scratches and puncture wounds covered his throat and face—hishumanface.
My breakfast churned and rose in my throat. I barely managed to choke it back down.
Hunter had shifted into skins. That only happened when a wolf experienced unfathomable trauma, but barbed wire wasn’t what rendered him unconscious.
My horror grew as I took in the bullets peppering Hunter’s abdomen and thighs, along with the copious amount of blood pooled on the stone floor beneath him.
Someone shot Hunter.
Twelve