Qeya River i've been searching for the daughter of the devil

“Why would I?” she asks with a quirk of her brow and slight quiver of her lip. She could feel her heart beat pumping in her ears and she’s sure he could too. Running won’t do anything except egg him on, encourage the game he thinks he’s found. It might buy her a little time, getting closer to the pack, but she keeps her footing planted in the snow even now that he’s inching the distance shorter. 

The young leader holds his pale yellow gaze and she grins, even though her heart lurches into her throat: “You think you can do what they’ve been unable.”