Grayson reached Betty’s cabin just as the snow started falling harder.
The door was open.
Inside, Betty was crouched on the floor, both hands pressed to Michael’s chest. She had managed to drag Michael inside . Her hair had fallen loose around her face. Blood stained the front of her coat. She looked up sharply when Grayson stepped in.
“A wolf attacked him,” she said at once, pushing herself to her feet. Her voice shook, but she stayed standing. “It came out of nowhere.”
Grayson was already kneeling. He checked Michael quickly, fingers moving with purpose. He leaned close, watching the rise and fall of Michael’s chest.
“He’s still breathing,” Grayson said.
Betty let out a sound that wasn’t quite a breath.
Grayson slid one arm under Michael’s shoulders and the other under his knees.
