Mark

Russell, pinched his nose in irritation and whispered harshly, "Can you tell your wolves to pick another bush? They're squishing me, and I can't stand their smell or fur!"

Wolfgang didn't bother replying, too focused on the cubs and their effect on the group of men. He barely registered Russell's complaints.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Russell's shoulder. His heart leapt, and he almost let out a scream before Wolfgang's hand shot up to cover his mouth. A familiar voice whispered in his ear, "It's me."

Russell turned, his heart still racing, to find Gordon squatting beside him. He let out a shaky breath, pushing Wolfgang's hand away from his mouth. 

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Russell hissed.

Gordon ignored his remark, his gaze fixed on the scene ahead. "Pull back your dogs, Wolfgang," he said quietly. "We're leaving."

Russell blinked in confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked.