Something came across Bella's face – the cub's face – in that flash of lightning and it must have shown, because The Wolf grumbled deep in its' throat and swung its' big head around in the direction she was looking. The look on her face must have been one of relief – or hope – and the image of fear slipped away.
The wind let up just a little bit, allowing the tips of the trees and the dancing bushes to settle, but the rain continued to fall – big, thick drops that pelted and peppered the muddy ground around them.
Bella – as the cub – relaxed a bit against the rock wall behind her, finally allowing herself the chance to breathe and, with that, the pain in her rear legs. She didn't have to move now, to force herself to try and crawl into a crack or crevice to keep from being snatched up in The Wolf's jaws and she didn't have to worry about trying to get around him – IT – and through the wood barrier covering the old mine shaft.