Each passing hour turns into days. Eventually, it wears on me. I grow more agitated by the second as my wolf claws to be free.

To be gone a few hours is one thing, but it’s turned into days of following a trail that I don’t know will end.

Every night, we stop for a few hours to rest, but not too long. We have to rotate just so someone is awake at all times to keep watch. But when it’s my turn to close my eyes, all I see is her. Memories of her scent floods my senses, along with dreams ...