The ghost blinked through the rain, his brows furrowed as he treaded quickly across the sodden ground, his jaws still clamped firmly around his daughter’s scruff. He, too, worried that their removal from the den would not be good for their health, but it was the only option. XIX did not know if the flooded river would reach their den but he was not willing to chance it. There was not much high ground in the Kingswood but he would find it—even if it meant escaping to the lowlands until the rain ceased. The thought earned a frown from the ghost but he remained silent, only looking over his shoulder once to ensure that the blue-eyed sparrow was not far behind.

Once they put distance between themselves and the overflowing river Lachesis stored his pale daughter in a hollowed out tree, his chartreuse gaze seeking the familiar pools of sapphire he often sought comfort from. His nose brushed her cheek as his ears flattened against the back of his crown, worry clearly etched across his forehead as he stepped past her. “Stay here,” he instructed as his tail arched over his back, “I’ll bring the other puppies here. I’ll be back soon—I promise.” He touched her cheek once more before tossing his nose to the sky to alert the rest of the river wolves of their location. Come! We have shelter for the children! He called out before tearing through the trees.

Fear bubbled in his chest as he sprinted for his co-lead’s den as he had not yet heard from her. Mud splashed against his stomach as he tore, clumsily, through the forest. Does anyone have Matheo or Risaela? He called out again, his tone much more frantic than it had been previously. Or Oksana?

Would Hearthwood ever be the same, or would the river wolves be chased from their home a third time? His throat grew tight as he neared Kisla’s den, his vision a blur as the rain continued from overhead, plummeting through the canopy of branches.

He did not even notice that the tawny healer had followed him to Kisla’s den until his voice came from behind him. Rain distorted the healer’s voice, crashing down around him as he turned to give Lorcán a small nod before dipping his front half into Kisla’s den. The little Tainn’s were huddled together, seeking refuge from the water that had started to leak into their den. He met his co-lead’s frantic gaze and gave her a reassuring nod. It would be okay. He had survived a flood once before—he would not succumb to the rising water level. “We need to go—now,” he hissed, his voice dripping with urgency as he reached forward, plucking Risaela first and turning to hand her off to Lorcán. Once the healer retrieved the little Tainn from his mouth Lachesis went back for Mathéo. “Follow us,” he added before gripping Théo’s scruff, motioning for the Baranski to follow them outside into the rain.

Once both Tainn’s were collected, along with their mother, Lachesis retreated to where he had left Lilya and the twins, his heart thumping erratically in his chest. He wondered where Mace and Aytigin had gone so he called for them, struggling to get his voice out around Mathéo’s small body: Follow us! West! Kisla followed suit after, urging their packmates to find them as they headed for higher ground, fighting the rain as it beat down on them.