Devotion by Grace R Duncan

Author:Grace R Duncan [Duncan, Grace R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781634765985
Published: 2015-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

TANNER’S INSTINCTS served him well. He picked up his mate’s trail just inside the trees. He wanted to balance speed with watching his direction and keeping track of Finley’s scent, but he was too afraid he’d lose Finley if he did. So he took a few more chances than he probably should have, but he couldn’t let himself worry too much.

By his figuring, he’d only gained a few hours on Finley. He was sure Finley would have to rest, but that didn’t guarantee he’d stop for hours at a time, much less an entire night. He suspected Finley would only stop when his body forced him to, and then only until he could manage to get up again.

So he knew the trail wouldn’t last much longer. He was a little desperate to cover as much distance as he possibly could before it did. Once he was in the forest again, Finley had followed an almost perfectly straight eastern line. Tanner hoped he stuck to that, which would make things a lot easier. For now, it meant he could pick up even more speed, stopping only occasionally to make sure he was going the right direction. His instinct kept pulling him east, and he followed it, grateful that it kept him going the right way.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even pause except to drink a bit of water when he absolutely had to. Instead, he kept moving, putting every bit of speed he had into his run.

He was forced to halt when he came across a paved two-lane road—as opposed to the dirt tracks he’d seen so far—in the middle of the forest. He wasn’t fool enough to barrel across without watching for traffic. To his annoyance, when he got to the other side, he found a fence. He could jump it, and did, but he had to actually back up and get a running start. The delay pissed him off, but he got back underway quickly, despite it.

A short while later, he found himself at the edge of the forest again. As he rose to the crest of the hill, he paused to look around. Ahead of him lay an open grassland stretching several miles across. The trees curved around to the northeast on his left, and he could just make out where they turned east again.

Tanner hesitated, unsure which way to go. Finley’s scent followed the trees to the left. But something—Tanner thought it was his instinct again—pulled him across the grasslands, going due east. If he was right about Finley’s intention—to run to him, and thus far, the direction Finley’s scent led him had been supporting that—then he could make up time by crossing the prairie, rather than sticking to the trees.

He looked up at the sky, but the moon hadn’t even risen very high yet. He had plenty of time to cross the open plain without having to worry about being seen by humans. He just didn’t want to possibly miss Finley’s trail, and if he didn’t come across it on the other side, he could possibly lose time, trying to pick up the scent again.

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