Page 72 of Feral Omega

Limp.

Chest rising and falling.

Limp… but unconscious.

Not dead.

Need to keep her alive.

Tear off my glove, press fingers to her neck.

Still a pulse, faint but there.

Relief floods me.

Strange lightness in my chest I can't place.

Not used to caring if prey lives or dies.

Not prey.

Omega.

Mine.

Not safe here.

Too cold.

I hoist her over my shoulder.

Her small body a dead weight against mine.

Weighs nothing.

A starved songbird.

Legs dangling, hair trailing behind us.

Like a banner.

Break into a loping stride.

Tearing through the forest.

Through the thorns.

Through brush.

Too much snow.

Too cold.

Not much time.

Need shelter.

Somewhere safe to hole up.