A low, menacing growl vibrated through the tall drainage grass as Juna crouched along the narrow field lane.
Her silver wolf ears twitched toward the clattering wheel rims of the clinic carts advancing three hundred yards behind her.
Between those vulnerable patient wagons and the fifteen approaching shadow hounds lay nothing but sixty yards of open gravel.
"Keep the evacuation carts moving along the left hedge line!" Juna commanded, her voice cutting sharply through the dusk.
"Do not stop, do not look to the right... keep your draft oxen at a steady walking pace!"
A panicked cart driver whipped his reins, glancing fearfully at the dark shapes rippling through the ditch reeds.
"Lady Juna, the beasts are flanking us through the culvert pipe!" the driver yelled back, his knuckles white against the reins.
"They will not touch a single wagon wheel while my feet are planted on this dirt," she answered with absolute, predator calm.
