Hope's POV.
The sunlight filters through the canopy in golden streams, dappling the forest floor with shifting patterns. My paws pound against the soft earth, Malakar’s steady rhythm matching mine just behind me. The air is warm and clean, scented with pine, wildflowers, and the faint musk of deer somewhere far off.
I push faster, not because I want to outrun him — though I know he’ll chase me no matter what — but because the freedom feels intoxicating. My lungs fill with cool, crisp air; the wind rushes past my ears.
Malakar’s deep growl rumbles playfully as he closes the gap. I glance back, my tail swishing high in invitation. He surges forward, brushing against my flank, our strides falling into perfect sync as we leap over a fallen log.
We don’t need words out here. The forest is o
