Shadewood Even though we know it, everyone remains in play.

For a brief while, the pair of hunters observed the wild pigs in silence, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Masquerade awaited her mate’s cue, nodding her head once to indicate her readiness. She ignored the slight twinge in her thigh as she coiled her haunches, preparing to spring.

After he took off after the boar, Masque couldn’t afford to track Riley’s movements. She leaped toward the suckling sow, who was already ushering her gaggle of piglets out of the wolves’ path. The other two sows closed in to form a circle with the youngsters herded into the space between their hammy hocks.

Masque had been betting on the sheer number working in her favor. Two or three of the piglets scrambled in random directions rather than allowing themselves to be shepherded to safety. Without thinking, she leaped after one headed in roughly the same direction Riley had gone, snatching it by the back of the neck.

It was an unwieldy load, to be certain, yet Masquerade did not pause, lest the mother or one of her cohorts chase after her. The she-wolf dragged the squealing, squirming piglet into the brush as quickly as she could. Her fangs pressed deep, strangling the life out of the babe even as she jogged through the underbrush. She picked up the pace slightly once it went limp in her grasp.

When she’d put enough distance between herself and the sounder, Masque unceremoniously slung the bloody carcass to the ground. She panted for a moment, then sent up a note to let her mate know her location.