Ravensblood Forest salt grasping

he tore after her like a storm on legs.
bitch! he howled a raw, guttural sound that split the air like a snapped mast. long limbs churned through the brush, snapping branches underfoot, nose low, eyes wild with fury.
he’d known better than to trust her. he had watched her. fed her.
and now she ran. the ungrateful—
yer dead, erzulie! he bellowed into the trees, voice cracking with rage. dead when i catch ya!
he ran harder. he didn’t care for the others.
crowell’s blood pounded loud in his ears. each breath came sharp, ragged. through shadow, through tangle, he pushed. she wouldn’t get far. not heavy with his pups like that. no. he’d find her, and tear her back from the sea if he had to.