Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) by Holly Newcastle

direction. We stopped to listen.
    “I’m stumped,” said Jacob. “That came from that way.” He pointed left.
    “Oh, rotten gravy!” Anna kicked a stone with her boot, stomping around. “I … hate … this!”
    “Shush!” I said, as another noise caught my attention. “I hear something.” We stood together amidst the trees, a collection of younger and older hardwoods, some whose branches hung lower than others. “Do you hear that?”
    “There wasn’t another shot,” said Anna.
    “No, it wasn’t that. I thought I heard something.” It had sounded like a growl or the whimpering of an animal, but I couldn’t be sure. “Listen.” The quiet that surrounded us unnerved me, because there had been birdcalls only minutes ago, yet those were silent now. And then I perceived it. “It feels like the earth is moving,” I whispered.
    Anna glanced at me. “Something’s running. It’s coming this way.”
    “More than one something.” Jacob craned his neck. “What is that? ”
    A low growl reverberated, lifting the hair on the nape of my neck. More howls rang out, like a rallying cry, a call to arms. Before I my mind constructed another thought, an animal burst from the bushes, its tan-colored fur matted with blood.
    “Molly!” screamed Anna, a look of horror upon her face.
    But the dog was not alone. The pounding of the earth had come from the combined forces of dozens of feet, enormous paws that spanned the size of a man’s hand. Wolves.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    There was nothing we could do for Molly, and we knew it. Our dog had been wounded, desperately bleeding from what looked like a laceration around her neck. She whelped piteously, limping, but it was too late. It might even be too late for us. They surrounded us within seconds; the growls had reached a fever pitch, the noise deafening. Several grayish colored animals emerged from the foliage, one-by-one, forming an orderly circle, a display of solidarity, but it was laced with aggression. Two white wolves appeared from amongst the trees, their noses lifted high, while their yellow eyes blazed.
    “Oh, gracious!” cried Anna. “Oh, help us, Jesus!” Tears were in her eyes, her chest heaving.
    “The trees!” shouted Jacob. “Climb! NOW!” He grasped a branch, hauling himself up and throwing a leg over to balance in a straddle. Then he brought his feet up and stood. “Higher ground! Get off the ground!”
    I hadn’t waited to see if Anna did the same, reaching for the nearest tree and climbing. My hands trembled with the force of the emotions rushing through me. Anna had done the same, standing on a branch, although being on a young tree, the boughs looked weak.
    “Will we be safe now?” she asked, her eyes flashing. “Are we high enough? Do wolves climb?”
    “They don't want anything to do with humans,” said Jacob. “Dat told me so. We just better get out of their way, is all I know.”
    “Poor Molly.” A wave of grief and sympathy washed over me, knowing our pet would pay the ultimate price for our freedom. The wolves had been distracted, focused on their prey, and not interested in us, or so I hoped. “Poor girl. I’m so sorry.”
    “There’s nothing we can do, Rebekah,” said Jacob gently. “It’s best not to watch.”
    Bile rose in my throat, while I gripped the branch with sweaty palms. I stood above the ground with my brother and sister, the three of us having found safety, but the same could not be said for Molly. The animal had run off earlier, and, by the looks of it, she had drawn the attention of the wolves.
    “You’ll meet God in heaven, Molly,” murmured Anna. “Please let this be quick and painless. Please take care of our dog …” she breathed, while crying. “We love you, Molly.”
    Seeing my sister in this state had affected me deeply. How I wished we had climbed the same tree. She was across the way, with a dozen or more wolves between us. The animals yapped and howled in a circle around Molly. Our dog