Ruby’s POV
The hardest part is letting go of pride.
Three hours pass before my legs start to shake. The forest moves beneath us, roots and rocks snagging at my boots, leaves slick with old rain. Every step jars bruises I pretend don’t exist.
“You’re limping,” Tyler says from ahead without turning.
“I’m not,” I lie. “Besides, you can’t carry me like this in wolf form.”
“Oh, we absolutely can,” Tyler says. “You are about to experience the finest transport method known to wolfkind: piggyback, but hairier.”
One of the larger wolves steps forward, shoulder brushing my hip. He crouches, waiting.
“Up,” Tyler says. “We’ll rotate. They can carry you longer and faster than any of us could on two legs.”
I force myself not to flinch. The wolf waits, ears pricked, tail still. Patient. Willing.
