It is shrinking.
Drake liked that moment.
He moved then, controlled, certain, his stride long and devastatingly efficient. The forest did not slow him. Branches snapped under his weight, roots shattered beneath his claws. He did not weave around obstacles.
They did.
They zigzagged through trees, panicked, ribs flashing between patchy fur, their scent thickening with fear as the truth began to settle into their bones.
They had chosen the wrong corridor.
They had scented the wrong children.
One of them glanced back.
I saw it.
That flicker.
That first flash of comprehension.
White.
He saw white closing in.
Drake surged forward with something dangerously close to pleasure rolling through his bloodstream, because nothing thrills a predator more than watching hope extinguish in real
