"If you died, who would the Marrok send?" the witch asked.

The implied threat brought a roaring in Anna's ears that muffled Charles's reply, rage burning painfully through the spell holding her motionless.

"He would come himself."

The witch pursed her mouth as if trying to decide whether that was something she wanted or not.

Anna couldn't move her feet, but with the wolf in charge she could move her hand through the agony caused by the witch's spell. She grabbed the cablelike end of the net that held her as if she were a villain in a Spider-Man comic. She wound it around and around her palm, then brought it to her other hand.

She couldn't look for long at the multiple strands she held together or they dazzled her eyes and made her head ache, but she didn't have to; the witch's cable of magic cut into her hands so she knew where it was.

She set her free hand on the cable just before it widened into the net that held her and pulled with both hands. She expected it to break or hold, as if it were really cable. Instead, it pulled like taffy, thinning gradually as she shifted her grip to pull it again and again.

If the witch had looked at her, she might have seen what Anna was doing. But the witch was only paying attention to Charles now.

Dominant, Anna thought gratefully, was more than just a rank in the pack. Charles's presence was such that when he walked into a room, everyone looked at him. Add to that effect Anna's own fragile appearance and utter lack of dominance, and it would require an effort on the witch's part to focus on Anna as long as Charles was there. An effort Mary Alvarado wasn't making.

Anna lost track of the question-and-reluctant-answer session. All of her being was focused on her task. Even taffy thins to nothing and breaks at some point.

Anna froze as the cable dissolved into nothingness, but the witch didn't appear to notice that her hold on Anna was gone.

What now?

She focused on the net that held Charles.

She would have to be fast.

Werewolves are very fast.

She darted between them, grabbing the cables of magic in both hands. The spell the witch used on Charles was a lot stronger, and it hurt to touch the strands. Pain radiated from her skin into her bones, settling into her jaw with a sharp, throbbing ache. She could smell burning flesh, but there was no time to assess the damage-a violent pull, and the spell shattered.

And Anna kept going. She grabbed the broken rifle from the snow and threw it as hard as she could. It hit the witch in the face with an audible snap.

She gathered herself for attack, but Charles grabbed her by the arm and tossed her ahead of him. "Run," he snarled. "Get out of her line of sight."

Chapter TEN

It didn't take Anna any time at all to discover that running in snowshoes sucked. They caught in the rocks, they caught in the brush, they brought her to her knees twice, and only Charles's hand on her elbow kept her from falling all the way down the mountainside. Jumping downed trees was...interestingly difficult. However, Charles, without snowshoes, was sinking up to his knees and deeper with each step-so she was properly grateful for hers.

That's not to say they were slow. It amazed Anna what terror could do for her speed. After the first, terrifying sprint-slide down the steep slope they'd spent hours climbing, she lost track of time and direction. She kept her eyes on Charles's red coat and stayed with him. When Charles slowed down at last, they were all alone in the forest.

Still they didn't stop. He kept her going at a fast jog for an hour or more, but he chose their path more carefully, staying up where the snow was shallower and his lack of snowshoes didn't hamper them.

He hadn't said a word after his command to run-but she thought it might be because he couldn't; and it wasn't any witch's spell.

His eyes were brilliant yellow, and his teeth were bared. He must have a good reason for staying in human form, but it was costing him. Her own wolf had slid back to sleep after the initial panic of their flight was over, but Charles's was right on the edge of taking over.

She had a whole slew of questions to ask. Some were immediate concerns like: Could the witch match their speed when a human couldn't? Could Mary use her magic to find them? Others were just matters of interest. How did you figure out she was a witch? Why could she only see the magic after her wolf was in control? Was there an easier way to break a witch's spell? Even an hour later her hands burned and ached.

"I think-" said Charles finally as his smooth rapid strides slowed to a halting limp. Her tired legs were grateful that he sounded winded, too. "-that Asil has some questions to answer."

"You think he knows her? Why is she after him?" Anna asked. She had spent a long time assuming that the werewolves (other than herself) were on the top of the food chain, but Charles's defeat at the hands of the witch shook her worldview. She was willing to believe that anyone would run from that witch.

"I don't know if Asil knows her. I haven't seen her in Aspen Creek, and she'd have been about ten when he incarcerated himself there. But if she's looking for him, he probably knows why." All of this was said in rapid three-word bursts as he struggled to slow his breathing.

She walked next to him and hoped that some of the quietness she was supposed to be able to bestow would help him. His breath slowed long before hers lost the ragged edge of their run, but she was back to normal before he said anything more.

"She shouldn't have been able to do that. She made me fawn at her feet like a puppy." His voice darkened to a growl.

"She shouldn't be able to control you with her magic?" asked Anna. "I thought that witches could do that kind of thing."

"To a human, maybe. The only person who should have that kind of control over wolves is their Alpha." He snarled, fisted his hands, then said in a rough voice unlike his own, "And even my father can't get a reaction like that from me. He can stop me in my tracks, but he can't make me do something I don't want to."

He sucked in a slow breath. "Maybe it's not her, maybe it's me. I didn't hear the first werewolf at all. I've been thinking about it, and I don't think it was downwind of us. I should have heard him, or smelled him-and he shouldn't have been able to lose me so easily."

Her first reaction was to reassure him somehow, but she bit that back. He knew more than she did about magic and about tracking. Instead, she tried to look for reasons. Tentatively, she ventured, "You were shot only a couple of days ago."