The night was anything but quiet.
Branches cracked. Leaves whipped by. The forest tore itself open as Lin Fang sprinted through, a dark blur under the fractured moonlight. Behind him, the werewolf crashed through the trees, roaring in fury — her claws gouging bark, her eyes burning like molten gold.
He didn't try to lose her. He could have. Instead, he _managed_ the chase — always keeping her at that thin, dangerous distance. Close enough to keep her focused on him, far enough to stay alive.
"Keep her eyes on you," Alpha's voice murmured inside his head. "If she locks onto something else, you'll lose control of the direction."
"Yeah, I know," Lin Fang breathed.
Each minute bled mana and stamina, but he couldn't stop. The forest thinned. The scent in the air changed — from mud and moss to the sharp tang of brine.
Forty-five minutes of running, dodging, luring — until the trees broke apart.
The salt lake stretched ahead, black and trembling under the moonlight.
