Page 16 of Untamed

"D-doc Swift's," he supplies.

"Doc Swift. She'll need protection. No Claim."

I watch the doctor's eyes flit away, the slight disappointment. An unclaimed female bearing no Mark, here in the fucking wilderness, is like waving bloody steak under the noses of all these males. It's another reason why I need to find that female pup. She'll need protection from unmated males.

"I'll send up a group.”

"ETA?"

"Two days at the most."

I hang up and fix my stare back on the doctor. "Didn't you say she needed antibiotics?"

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Willa

I unpack my Father's bag with hands that are shaking. I have injuries that I'm only now feeling. Minor burns on four of my fingertips, the soles of my feet. The skin is reddened, bleeding in places. It hurts bad enough to bring tears to my eyes. My hair is scorched at the ends. I can see the burned strands every so often when it blows in my face.

I need balm for some of my burns, but all of my supplies aregone... along with Mama.

I choke back my sobs. I don't have time to cry, to mourn. Survival is first, and all I have is this pack and my quilt. Everything else is ash. Everything.

I pull out an extra shirt. The dark green and blue plaid is missing two buttons and reeks of my Father, but it's all I have unless I want to slice up my quilt. I take it out and set it on the ground. Searching deeper in the pack, I find a knife. It's not a weapon, exactly. It's more of an eating knife, a carving one, at best. But it may be all I have when I'm not on paws. It goes into the pile. I find other things, a rope belt that I will unravel as soon as I have time and my fingers heal, a steel mug, a pair of socks, a little bit of dried meat. Then, I come across some unusual things; a small book of names, just letters, mostly, almost like it's in code, a small little pocket tool with an abalone handle that has initials TR, and a necklace with a small, golden, carved bear claw with turquoise stones.

Strange, not particularly useful, but I carefully repack everything, unwilling to let go of any of it now that it's all I have. I toss the foul leaves Father liked to chew back into the bottom. Even that disgusting stuff I keep.

I keep the knife and shirt out of the bag. With the knife, I rip the shirt to fit me, like a sleeveless dress. I fashion a nice little holster from one of the sleeves for the blade. On my feet, I wrap the other sleeve around the bark and strap them to my feet with the rope belt. It hurts my fingers, but no sense in all of me being injured.

As protected as I can be, I head out for the stream. The first thing is to check the fish trap in the stream. It may be my only source of food for days. I can't smoke them, but I can wrap them in leaves and let them dry as I walk south. They'll last a day, tops, before they stink.

I don't want to smell. I need to be invisible.

Two trout are jumping around in the woven reed trap. Just two. Shifting must make you hungry, as well as tired because I'mboth. By the Moon, I'm hungry and tired.

I grab the fish and wrap them up. I don't enjoy raw fish, but it's nothing I'm not used to. Father forced me to eat raw food as part of his training.

After slicing the heads off the fish and descaling them, I peeled away the good meat from the thin, white bones. When I'm sure I've removed all of the sharp pieces, I eat. My hunger is sated when the fish are gone, and my body is growing more and more clumsy. I ate, now I need to sleep.

Survival means safety. As tired as I am, I can't just fall asleep. My Father's threat of selling me to some male keeps running through my mind. I need to keep away from that male.

Where do I go? All I know is my forest, my home, and my Mama. Without Mama, there's no reason to stay here. My instincts tell me to go south, but The Pack is to the southeast and the Mountains, filled with rogues, are to the southwest. I will have to be careful to plan my journey carefully. Maybe I can find a safe place away from The Pack?

I walk until I reach a forest that I don't recognize. My stream isn't a little bubbling brook anymore. It's a river. I've only seen the river twice before. Once, I wandered off, hoping that someone could help Mama and me. I was eight, and Mama was sick. Father hadn't been home in weeks. The river stopped me from traveling further. When I finally made my way home, Mama told me about The Pack. They won't help us.

The second time I went to the river, Father dragged me here after discovering that I was trying to 'run-off.'

"You want to swim, Willa? Go ahead."

He threw me into the river. I didn't know anything about the water. I didn't think it could be so deep that my feet couldn't touch. I didn't realize that it could be so cold that my entire body would be numb in just a few heartbeats. I didn't know how hard it would be to see underneath the surface. I didn't realize that it would take me miles from home and steal the air from my lungs.

I dragged my body out of the water and limped home, following my Father for the first and last time. Mama wasn't the only one who was sick after that.

The river looks different in the summertime.Placid; calm, tranquil, more mellow.

My wolf howls a little, startling me. Her unease makes me take a few steps backward. She doesn't like the river, either.

I look at the sun dropping. If I don't cross the river, I'll be pushed to the mountains.

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