yellow and green. Unable to drop her head, she couldn't see the web that held her. But her skin's sensitivity allowed her to feel the fine strands like a net of dental floss.
If it had been only her in danger, Anna was pretty sure that she'd have been standing in that one spot until spring thaw. Her wolf had submitted meekly to all the beatings, the forced sex-giving her only the strength to endure and something to hide behind when life became unbearable. But her mate was in trouble. A roar of anger hid itself under her diaphragm, making breathing difficult- but caution told her she needed to wait for the right opportunity.
"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