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Alys pulled up the cellar doors. If someone else were using her caves, she meant to find out about it.
    Pushing her skirt between her legs, she climbed down into the darkness, quickly finding the rug that was supposed to hide the false bottom of the floor. However, the rug had already been pulled back, the opening of the caves revealed. She breathed out a sigh and, bending down, swiftly negotiated the ladder, vaulting down to the hard rock floor of the caves, the coldness of the ground seeping into her slippers. Complete and utter blackness engulfed her, but such a thing meant nothing to her. She picked up the lantern that always hung there and lit it, its flicker splattering light across the thick, solid boulders. Shadows appeared and disappeared on those walls, but she ignored them. She held no fear of these caves.
    These were her caverns. Hers and her mother’s alone.
    She would ensure they remained that way. Grabbing a shovel, she proceeded cautiously.

Chapter 3
    P erhaps an amateur might have been disoriented by the blackness of the caves. Not so, Alys. She followed the trail of blood easily and found that the man’s path kept to the main cavern, not diverging off into some of the lesser used passages.
    As she moved farther and farther into the tunnels, she calmed down somewhat and became more determined to confront the intruder. But as she did so, the coolness of the underground caverns seeped into her. Perhaps she had been unwise to come here without a warmer wrap, but it was too late now to go back.
    She grimaced. The man, this Wolf Shadow, was going nowhere, not if this trail of blood held any indication of his condition. A feeling of premonition swept over her. What if this man and the boy Moon Wolf were truly one and the same and she got to him too late?
    Suddenly, from out of nowhere, two golden eyes appeared in front of her. It had to be the wolf who accompanied the man. Would the animal attack? She had no timeto ponder the question, however, or even to feel fear. If she were running into his pet, she knew the man himself was close-by.
    The animal soon gave her to understand that it meant her no harm. Instead of growling or attacking, it whined, coming up close to her, then pushing away; back toward her again. It repeated the action. In truth, it couldn’t have said “follow me” plainer than if it had spoken to her. And so, she trailed after the wolf, down through a little used cavern, around a bend.
    It didn’t take long to find the man, collapsed as he was on the chilly floor. She realized, too, that if he weren’t unconscious from the loss of blood, he soon would be from the shock of the cold, stone floor.
    She approached him tenuously, shovel held high. Would he attack her, if awake? Was there still danger from the wolf?
    The man remained motionless, even when she stood directly over him. Was he unconscious? Dead, maybe?
    Setting the shovel and lantern down, she bent over him, one hand going to his chest, the other to what should be the pulse in his neck.
    He was alive. Barely. The beat was weak.
    It was amazing to her that he had negotiated the caves this far. Removing her gloves and kneeling next to him, she checked his head, his arms, his chest. No injury there, though his body was chilled. Much too cold. She would have to do something to warm him.
    She couldn’t tell his identity, at least not right now. He wore too much paint on his face, plus the wolf headdress hid his more prominent features.
    Still looking for the injury, she made a path down his body, its instantaneous jerk telling her she was getting close. Down his hips, inward toward his upper thighs, herhand suddenly came in contact with something warm and sticky. His body convulsed.
    Blood.
    The injury was to his thigh, the wound still bleeding heavily. She would have to tie a tourniquet around his upper leg and then…she would have to remove that bullet.
    She needed a doctor, that’s what she needed. But