Lost in the Deep Forest, Mark and Gwen have been captured by robber Madach. But Mark was thrown from the boat when crossing a turbulent river …
Mark’s lungs burned. A rushing wetness thundered in his ears. He pushed, with his feet, with his arms, praying to the Beings he was pushing up, to the surface, and air.
He broke free, gasped, gulped more water as the river whirled him around and around. The current drew him under. He fought the fast waters. It was too hard. He had no strength. His sodden cloak wrapped itself around him as the relentless river drove him down.
Mark jerked as something caught at his hood and pulled it tight, felt his exhausted body tugged against the river’s force. His head broke the surface. He gagged, spewing out water. A roaring filled his skull. The air was wet around him, choking his desperate gasps.
The grip on his cloak loosened and something wet and warm and soft clamped itself around his arm, pulling him up, up and out, out of the water, further up, onto dry land.
Mark lay on his stomach on sun-warmed stones and closed his eyes. He gulped deep breaths of dry air. He was out of the river, alive. Below him, the torrent of the waterfall roared on.
He lifted his head to find his rescuer.
Two glowing points of red, either side of a long, black and hairy nose, stared into his face.
Mark stopped breathing.
The nose moved towards him. Black jaws opened to show two rows of sharp white teeth and a long red tongue.
Mark closed his eyes, tight. He hadn’t been rescued, he’d been hunted. He was about to be a wolf’s dinner.