Jaric kept the memory of what happened just a few days back tucked neatly away, but he would have it forever. Two men went missing, during the night, and no one knew how or why. It’s easy to go missing in a place like this, but what he saw the next morning was life changing. The smell and sight of their bodies singed and hanging from a tree limb above their own camp fire still lingered in his nose and thoughts. Blood from their skinless muscles, tendons, and bones dripped into the fire near where he was sleeping. The sizzling sound of each drop woke him as the bubbling and popping noises grew more constant on the piping hot stones. He threw up again in his mouth thinking about it, and the vile mixed with the juniper berry juice was fowl enough to make him spit. The sounds of sizziling blood awoke him that morning, and his screams awoke the camp.
The ‘creature’ made quick work of those men just a few nights back. ‘It’ had only a few hours to have accomplished such a feat, but even more importantly and more frightening - his dogs hadn’t heard it. They’d slept soundly through the gruesome task. He knew something unnatural was out there on the other side of the northern tree line in front of him. Nobody could strip a man of his skin and hang him from a tree without waking up someone or something in the process….no word was spoken about it, but he knew that the men were shaken to the core. Rightly so - A bloody body found some distance away from their location was one thing. This showed that the creature…the ‘thing’ - had no fear. ‘It’ was in control…setting the traps and leading them straight into its destruction. It showed they weren’t the ones “doing” the hunting. It was. The better hunter was out there….alive…somewhere in a tangled mess of trees directly in front of them. ‘It’ was something wrong and unnatural. Just like the trees – it must be right at ‘home’ within them. That gave him an idea.
The hunting party, expedition, selected group…whatever you want to call them stood on the brink of a vast and deep forest. All of them pretending to see into an abyss of tangled branches as the sun dropped below the peaks of the mountains to the west. They were cold and it was dark - there wasn't much to discern. His dogs were whimpering quietly. None were too excited...and all were filled with a slight canine trembling fear. That was rare. It took a lot to emotionally defeat a dog…and even more to do it to an entire pack. That “something” out there.... froze them even more than the early Northern winter.
Some brutes, some thinkers, and others quick; the pack was lethal. He’d worked for years to assemble them, picking from the best litters the Southern and Northern Realms had to offer.
The man standing behind him and starring directly at his back … was on the verge of destroying his life’s work. The pace he’d set in the freezing cold of early winter crippled most of his pack. He’d lost two of his veterans from pure exhaustion in the last two weeks. They were pushing to hard…and too fast. It was a recipe for disaster….they were on the brink of a massacre because they were moving faster and farther before they could clearly think about their next move. Jaric wasn’t used to being a foot Soldier…there were too many years between the days so long ago where he was blindly led by another man’s rage, stumbling into the unknown waiting to die.
Jaric was twenty years older than any of the human member’s of this expedition. Balding, he was left with a brittle wispy mange of snowy white hair, matching the blanket of the powdery white stuff clinging and covering the trees and ground all around them. It ended in a loose braid halfway down his back. On an average day his looks were disconcerting. He knew that. He saw it in the reactions of many of the boys, young men, but boys to him that were on this expedition. Well…at least the ones who were willing to look at him. His left eye was covered in a white filmy murk... deep scars lined his hands from a cabin fire he’d survived as a child. Years of training and hunting in the elements with a pack of wild dogs should’ve killed him long ago, but he’d met his fair share of luck through the years. His skin was patchy and rough, but covered in tough calluses. The thing still giving him true grief was the large lump under his left shoulder blade, pressing painfully against his lungs, making him wheeze involuntarily…it was more embarrassing than painful most of the time.
Physical ailments were a manageable nuisance...but the hunt was taking its toll on his aging mind and the mind of his pack. So often the fight for survival became more mental than physical. This was one of those moments, and it was proving to be one of the toughest fights he’d ever been in. A few broken noses, and even some broken knuckles didn’t compare to the cold he felt now, and the further north they moved the colder it became, seeping deeper and deeper into his bones.
The winter could trick your mind. Especially when your so used to being warm. He was jumping at shadows. Everything seemed white, blue, and frozen. The temperatures were squeezing his already burdened lungs. The further North…the tighter the grip on his mind. He would soon have to concede to the pain. What made it worse?...They’d moved miles in the wrong direction - up and down false trails he fell over and over again on ice patches. Several bad twists made him question the final position of his bones. Their only bag of grain was frozen, a horse on the sled broke its leg, and the whole human side of the camp fell ill for three days, succumbing to a fever which killed two of them. Each new “complication” proved to be more difficult than the last. He was beginning to wonder if it was worth his own life and the lives of his pack any longer.
He gathered himself and pushed a thought through his weathered lips, “I’m getting to damn old for this…” The worst of it was the anticipation of what would happen next. This ‘creature’ was anything but normal. He needed to kill it...to avenge the death of the King, and subdue this ‘thing’ would be absolutely necessary for the confidence of the children of the Southern Realms, but mostly for his ‘own’ peace of mind, but his was a game for young men…not elders like him…..but who else could track like the famous Jaric Longnose? Some who’d been keeping track claim he’d bagged more thieves and murders than the ‘Citizen Soldiers’ of Ongelan over the years. He was the natural selection, but often over the years his reputation would get him into a tight spot… unwanted trouble, and this was definitely a tight spot…and even more certainly a cold one. At least in those moments the coin he earned was worth it. If he lived through this one he would be one of the wealthiest men in all the Southern Realms…according to Borin, but more important than that at this age was his sleep. He wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly, knowing this ‘thing’ was out there in the world with ‘his’ scent in ‘it’s’ nostrils….if ‘it’ even had nostrils.
The hair on his neck stood suddenly as fear spread like a wildfire within the pack. At whit’s end.....their hackles stood straight, and their eyes strained to see. Hairy ears were pointed in every direction in an instant and the entire hunting party held their breath. To keep their sanity a Plain Sheaperd and Mastiff mix almost as big as his alpha wolfhound started to bark. It initiated a pack wide chorus of howling that filled the night air. It was out there….close. He could almost sense it ….moving around them.
“It’s only a rabbit!” Borin's high pitched angry scream took them all by surprise. So much so that Jaric’s heart jumped into his throat and the dogs howling stopped instantly, breaking the icy moment. Some of the pack laid down painting with anxiety. Borin was as wide as most men were tall, but his high pitched voice deceptively leaped from his face. Whether out of fear or anger it worked. It was also true…a furry little creature darted out of the edge of the woods but didn’t make it past two of the labs. They tore it to shreds.
Borin’s round body stood over an even wider shadow from the fire light behind him. He couldn’t see it in the dark but Jaric knew the man’s long blond hair hung annoyingly in his eyes, covering his broad nose and other portly features that remained in shadow. It was amazing he could see anything really.
Jaric turned around to face the fat man and laughed out of fear in the eerie silence, “Hell Borin...maybe your right... Except a good man knows when the hunt has turned....” He paused to scratch his gray stubble chin, and lay his other hand on the gray giant wolfhound's head that sat beside him. Ever his companion the giant dog never left his side. It’s head was chest level, almost looking Jaric in the eye. The alpha of the pack he seemed completely at ease – unlike all the others. He even seemed to be smiling. Jaric spat chewed juniper berries like a dart at the ground. It helped a little with the seeping pain in all of his joints…, “Right now Borin...we’re too far into this to turn around. Even you can see that moving around at night is taking a unecessary risk. If we go for it –right here….tonight…. well…-I’d have to be pretty damn certain ‘we’ve’ got the jump…and I can tell you as clear as you are standing there looking fat – that we don’t have the jump on much more than that rabbit.”
Jaric knew full well what Borin was about...and he was deep under the man’s skin. Borin walked a tight rope between insanity and cruelty. He supposed two traits necessary to be the King’s personal assassin. Although his physical features were as much a disguise as he’d ever seen. Maybe his years of service had taken their toll. That many feasts and parties he supposed he’d put on a few layers of loose skin too.
The fact that someone else had the answers that Borin didn’t, and even more so that it was Jaric - enraged the extra-large man. He could see it in his round flustered face when the man spoke, and in his squinty eyes when he didn’t.
Jaric simply knew more about hunting than Borin did. He’d still been giving the man small victories - here and there, in front of the other men. It was only a temporary fix. He knew that. Just by listening to the man’s subtleties and carefully judging his aggressions Jaric’s time was running short. Many nights and days spent in the bars and taverns along the Coastal Kingdoms would teach anyone a thing or two about communication. Body language and tone of voice were indicators long before someone acted out their aggression. The thought of it made him wish he was there right now playing a descent card game or two with the locals, drinking himself into a stupor, and dancing with a pretty girl. Jaric figured with Borin’s ‘tells’ he had less than a week worth of time left. Which meant he needed to act fast. Borin had most likely already planned Jaric’s death. He would just need a good moment to pull it off. If the ‘beast’ out there in the dense forest didn’t get him first. Talk about feeling stuck….this was a stuck as you could get.
He hadn’t determined yet the best way to deal with the moment when it came, but he knew there would be a moment. Sometimes that’s all you needed. At least its good to know who’s holding the sword when it falls on your head. Borin would brake soon, and when he did it wouldn’t be pretty for anyone out here with him. He may be fat, but under that was a thick layer of muscle that would make him tough to handle for any normal sized man let alone two or three. He would need to slow him down somehow. If the fat muscular man lost it - he knew he’d be the first among many of his initial targets. Jaric had no intention of being a target especially for a man with an extra heavy chip on his shoulder.
He wanted out of this mess, and it was most simply that. He wanted plain out of it! The answer was staring him in the face…. He almost laughed out loud at how quickly it had come. Thankfully his fear subdued that reaction immediately. Eighteen pairs of eyes were starring right back at him. Some dog and some human, but all were looking to him for answers in this moment…including Borin. All he could think of was the answer to Borin's sword. When he was a young man….a soldier he’d been taught to fight the immediate threat first and work his way out from there. You get caught watching the nobles and a farmer could pike you in your gut. The other was strength in numbers which he’d been working on since the started this journey over two months ago.
He needed everyone. These men were boys to Jaric, but being young usually meant they would be impressionable. He had to take that risk. For his sake and the sake of the lives of his dogs he needed each of these young men in Borin’s hire. The only hope was if they were wise enough know the importance or true value of their lives in the face of a threat. Would they choose their own lives over a few of Borin’s coins?.... He would need them in the coming days. He would need boys to become men, and he would need them to become men overnight. It was a lot to ask, but he had no other choice…he could try and.... worm his way out. Given the right moment...he would be a half a day away before anyone noticed, but he’d be running for the rest of his aging life from a fat obnoxious and insanely rich man. He couldn’t give his pack up either. He would die for them if he needed too. The right moment and it would be his head on a pike instead of the creature they were chasing. What he really needed was the confidence and strength of the boys starring at him now…their numbers – he needed them to turn on Borin...he needed an insurrection.
Jaric felt a twinge of confidence with the possibilities of this new direction. He turned back to the tree line...and spoke softly enough to put each of them on their toes who were trying to listen. He would need to include them….with a wide sweeping motion of his arms he looked each young man in the eye... “ ‘We’….aren’t interested in dragging carcasses out of this tangled mess tonight are we?” He went back to scratching his chin and spat more berries at the ground. He looked to the others for support. They started to grumble amongst each other. Turning around again he looked into the small crowd of men and putting his hand up to shade his eyes he attempted to read their faces. They seemed confused that someone was challenging Borin, but hopeful.
Some of the men gaped past Jaric into the dense wood thinking about the possibilities of death that was starring them back in the face. He dared not look away now. He could hear Borin's deep breaths and he could feel the heat of the man’s blood boiling. It was in a constant simmer, and it didn’t take much but a slow stir of the spoon and a pinch of salt to make it bubble. No need to put more air on the embers of this man’s flame, but if he didn’t challenge him now on the edge of uncertainty he would never be able to recruit the man’s hired hands.
He needed Borin to make a mistake. He needed him to make enemies. He had done just that along the way. He had plenty enough enemies in Ongelan to last the year already, but none within this group that Jaric could see or pick out at the moment. He needed to push Borin over the edge. This would be the only indicator that his plan would work. It would either be Jaric or Borin tied up, but at least he wouldn’t be dead. If he could separate the ones with doubt he would be in luck.
He felt Borin’s eyes burning a hole through him. It was nothing new truly. He’d been slowly chipping away at their trust behind the man’s back. Now it was time to test his theory. He could no longer wait to know. It was now...or never. Would they just throw more lives away?... The tides had shifted and the longer they remained under Borin’s thumb and within the ‘monster’s traps the more likely all of them would end up dead or dying.
Jaric spit, and then he looked Borin straight in the eye. “I don’t think any of us could carry you out….you're to fat.” The pot was tipped. Borin blew up. He even saw the man’s eye twitch before he gripped the handle of his sword and started what looked like an attempt at running toward him....it actually reminded him of a giant bull rush. He was too slow at the start though….slipping slightly and catching himself with his wide fingers as he stood up pulling his sword from its scabbard the tip didn’t leave the sheath before one of the young men grabbed his wrist, and another grabbed his other arm and yet another kicked the back of his knees. Borin’s face was in the dirt before he could move five feet. Not to mention the wolfhound was inches from the big man’s throat….growling. The actions of his alpha were instantaneous – but he wouldn’t bite without Jaric’s word.
“We’ve lost enough good men to the weather - Borin.” Jaric had to smile. One of the bigger young men stood behind Borin now with his sword drawn. Borin screamed with rage, “I’ll wipe all your bloodlines clean. None of you will have a family left to go home too!!..” “Your anger has pushed us far enough.” The boy with the sword at Borin’s throat spoke. “This isn’t about payments…it’s about survival.”… Sander's voice cracked a bit, but it was easy to see now that the men had chosen. Jaric couldn't help but exhale. He also couldn’t help but think – ‘the boys did have an ounce of sense in them.’ “Take his sword and tie his hands.” Jaric felt much more comfortable with his decision now. The other men had confidence in him…that at least would help them live a little while longer.
Borin was playing at making a point with his rabbit comment, but Jaric was more than aware of what a show of dominance looked like by now. His dogs’ were skittish around the man....and it only further proved to Jaric that he’d made the right decision. Borin was on edge.....lost in his own mind....in the hunt. Of course the King wouldn’t have made Borin his personnel ‘assassin’ if the man didn’t have skill with a blade or the ability to kill, but hunting was a different kind of killing.
Killing is easy for an assassin – a knife in the dark while someone you’ve planned to kill sleeps soundly ...a common thief could pull that off. Hunting with a pack is different….you often wait for your prey, attempting to draw it in closer and it usually ends up fighting ‘you’ in the end.
Walking the knife’s edge of insanity - the man's toes were obviously dangling off. He’d pushed him over. Now – it was no time to pull the rest of the pack and the young men back from that edge. Accusing eyes began darting in every direction...swords were gripped and shouting broke out. “RELEASE!” Jarics bellow in the dark had all fifteen of his dogs in a formation surrounding the group before a fight could brake out. Each of them posed on the verge of attack with their own individual targets identified. Each man froze. “Now boys…..let’s get a grip. Their’s a thing out there trying to kill us.” He pointed behind him, “Tie everything down! Seal the cracks! Sharpen your swords! If you want to live ….we fight together!”….Each man stood silent and began nodding. The day of individuality was over. He would command this formation. He would lead them. Most of it was just keeping the honest men ….honest, but it was time to push past that now. Fear wasn’t good on a normal day and even less so when you’re hunting a killer whose hunting you back. He needed a united front behind him.
How do you lose credibility…..by making poor decisions that get men killed....that's how. He’d spent the last week convincing the other men …one by one that Borin was killing them….well – it didn't take long to dispose of him. So….it had worked. The memories of a past life crept back into his mind – memories of a war...and he was re-living his own small part in it.
Borin’s scent....was chaos mixed with determination...like his own, but it was mixed with crazy. Borin wasn’t afraid of this ‘thing’ out there. That wasn’t natural. Each man had the scent of fear except for him. He wanted to “see” it… He was charged with the mission from the King himself…..- and Jaric knew he would never convince this man that it was a fool hearted task, but before the disheveled incredibly fat man killed them all he had to act.
So….that meant Borin knew something that no one else did. He knew something that made him understand ….the threat so he could manage his fear….or…he was just crazy. Jaric wasn’t about to let a secret kill his pack or the rest of the youngsters in the hunting party. Jaric took a few steps forward and knelt next to the man in the dirt who was still spitting and sputtering dirt out of his mouth. His alpha stood over the man and at Jaric’s slight command the dog began growling in Borin’s ear. As the beast began the ground began to vibrate under Jaric's feet. He simply asked his question, "What do you know...that we don't about our little rabbit - Borin?"...the man was shaking a little now. ... "....It....It....It's a 'Shifter' " A gasp spread out from the men nearby who could hear the high pitch whisper.
Outside of that little secret Jaric was probably the only one who ‘truly’ understood what that meant and pieced together what was happening. Their prey’s scent…the ‘shifter’ was at least seven days old and anything but fearless. The thing had a week of preparation on them. As far as he could tell they were hunting a shadow in its homeland. It was a race to get here and ‘it’ had won. Was it actually seven days away? It could be miles, hundreds of miles….or inches? It could be a few meters outside of camp and they wouldn’t even know it….not with a shifter. The men ‘it’ had killed was a warning….aimed directly at Jaric. He was giving him a fighting chance to turn away and go back home without a fight. As long as they stayed on its trail it would kill them one by one, and there would be ‘Nothing’ that he or the other young men could do about it….team or not. He would need an Army to kill this thing…and even then it wouldn’t be a guarantee. This was an ancient evil. One he thought was legend….a folk story….a lie. If what Borin said was true that meant it was over already. Without him and his pack of dogs the ability to track wouldn’t have existed. He knew now that Borin wasn’t scared because Borin was resigned to dying already. He was already dead in his own mind. This was his death sentence. Jaric could only think of one more question….”Why?...Why did you let us believe we had a chance out here?”….Borin began to laugh. “You were the last one Jaric. The last of the King’s internal threats. The only one left from the Old Guard who could still raise an Army and fight him before he branches out to crush the other Realms. That creature out there was paid heavy coin to lead you out here. A Northerner…an assassin far better than me….better than any living. The deal was to kill you…and everyone else. I would be the only one to survive and bring the story home to your family.”
The defenses of the camp would be useless and his pack was the only reason the hunt was happening anyway. The rest of these men may as well have turned their horses around weeks ago, and headed back to Ongelan. He knew something was wrong from the beginning. It was pointless. They were on a suicide mission. Sander raised his blade but Jaric parried the deathly blow before it impacted with Borin’s giant neck and it drove deep into the mud. “What are you doing! He’ brought us out here to die!!” Sander’s rage was justified…but Jaric was a tactician. An old general. He spoke softly…, “We may have use of him still, and….he could be lying. ”
“We’ve followed you and you’re mutts around for two months…and every day that we piss by - another coin falls out of the King’s pocket. You really think I’m lying?!” Borin began to laugh as his hands were tied behind his back. The fight was gone in his voice…the man was resigned to Jaric for his own life at this point. It seemed he was reserved to the fact that Jaric was in control now. “You may not care how we are funded, mutt loving - prick, but I promise you….you aren’t the only tracker we could have used to hunt this thing down. Your old and falling apart, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a legend amongst the Realms. You have done nothing that shows me you are worth the gold I was going to be paid...... This forest is still a long way from Ongelan. It will take you weeks to return, and you’ll be lucky to make it that far.”... It was a show for the men. He was still hiding something. It was one last scratch at instilling fear – a bluff. He was becoming more and more thankful for those tavern games.
Borin had left a momentary pause before the threat...and Jaric had felt the urge to spit during the lie, but every good lie required a majority of truth. He reconsidered the blatant disrespect of one of the King’s own. Borin would kill him if the opportunity presented itself now for sure. No questions asked. It was easy to voice such disdain toward a man of Jaric’s stature though – he was used to it. No commonality stood between a relative of the King...the King’s personal assassin and him, but his legendary past still exacted respect from most. He could still smell a hint of respect lingering on Borin for his capabilities...they wouldn’t be here -…still alive …..if it wasn’t for Jaric and he knew Borin knew that much at least. They should have died a while ago and now he knew why Borin was getting frustrated. He wasn’t sure how much longer it would last, and he was tired of being cold. So the King wanted Jaric dead…..now it was clear.
Jaric, knew in this moment the high pitched voice was impotent, but now it would be about getting to the truth behind the creature they were chasing. There wasn’t another tracker within three hundred miles of this remote wilderness. None of the men or Borin had another choice but to continue to rely on him to find the scent and continue on. The longer he chased. Potentially the longer he lived. He needed more time to gather his thoughts….make a plan. There wasn’t another tracker in the world that could use a pack the way he did either. The men don’t trust him ...they trust me. If he wants to ….kill me…. this ‘thing’ – we’ll have to do it for him. He wouldn’t give the King the satisfaction of knowing the truth. “Strip him. Tie him. And secure him to that tree. Build a fire near him and feed him some stew. He doesn’t piss without someone else holding it for him.”
Jaric and the other men had hesitated to name their prey…something they would have most likely done ages ago if they’d known the truth. It was a different type of hunt now. So they kept to ‘thing’, ‘it’, ‘creature’ all of the different names given to an anomaly. There was danger in that alone. Now that he knew it was a shifter.....‘It’ had a whole new eerily mortifying persona, and the ultimately evil feeling grew exponentially. Whenever ‘it’ was discussed ‘it’ simply made the terminology of ‘it’ all the more menacing. He wished they had a name for it now, but the ‘nameless’ grow inertia in legend, and it would be his legend versus ‘its’…..and ‘it’ could only get worse now.
The ‘creature’ was on horseback... and he didn’t let that fool him. If legend were true - that gave it a human depiction, but he’d seen worse than human's riding horses. He knew that much. A heavy horse with a wide gate and a big hoof. It was at least a span taller than his own. The ‘creature’ was a giant and a heavy one. Or he’s carrying or bearing something extremely heavy as a disguise. One thing was bugging him though - for sure. This ‘thing’ back tracked...and it back tracked all the time. Often circling around the camp in a mile or two wide berth. He would never share that tasty tid bit of information with the others because of the havoc it would cause. His ability to lead a hunt didn’t just happen overnight. He knew most of it was a mind game, and steady control over emotions/confidence far outweighed jeopardizing the entire mission. Often the most dangerous thing was senseless fear. He needed to kill this ‘thing’. The pack wouldn’t stop until they found it anyway. It was bread in them and they would find it or die trying. The decision was made….the hunt would continue.
The only evidence found besides hoof prints and a nasty scent happened well before they’d even started the hunt. It wasn’t something he could see with his eyes. He knew this thing they chased was hired to do evil things. He’d seen it before long ago. It had almost felt like a past life the memory was so old. This creature was trained in its craft... Some sort of ‘specialty’ assassin, and a damn good one – the best. If he rushed the pursuit at all he had the distinct feeling it would end with his ten toes up to the sky. No sense in letting on that the distance they were keeping from 'it' was the only thing keeping them alive at this point. He had no intention of letting that little secret out either. Sadly enough, with the way things were going.... this thing had an obvious advantage. He’d seen the... leftovers.....it could create over the last few months. He needed a large shovel to clean up most of it. He would need a lot more than skill here – he needed an advantage......a trap. Plans like that took time. He would need to use the men he had on hand now….not only for their mutiny this evening but for bait in the future, and Borin would play a role in that as well. That he was sure of. He’d heard it said in the past….revenge was easy when it no longer mattered. ….He would make sure that the King knew it was him, but he would need to wait. He would need a long term plan.
The night had worn on and they’d finished camp along the edge of the wilderness. Borin’s threats were empty, but it didn’t stop him from continuing to scream them in his womanly voice. They'd propped him up like an anchor against the nearest tree to the fire. He knew the man was secure, but he’d still leave his good eye open tonight. “Close the distance eh…well that might get us all killed.” Jaric thought out loud in a cold whisper that blew a cloud of steam from his lips. His alpha’s ears perked up and he lifted his enormous head to look at Jaric with a side glance. The dog lay between the Jaric’s feet at the moment - near the end of his bed roll. The boar of a dog always seemed interested in what he had to say. He was thankful for that. He needed someone...or something to listen to his rambles tonight – it helped ease the pain and discomfort of loneliness and fear. He couldn’t believe the very man he’d fought for wanted him dead. It didn’t make any sense. Borin’s voice echoed over and over again....it most certainly had weakness in it.... He seemed to mask it slightly with misplaced aggression. Jaric whipsered to the wolfhound, “We’ll move at first light - ....yes.., we will eh...pup.” Jaric reached down and scratched the dog’s chin to the beasts delight. “Someone stuff his mouth!”, that was Sander. Within a few short minutes Borin’s voice was drowned behind a rag and rope. He went back to his conversation. “Resting will allow the...how’d he say it...hmm....mutts..... a little recuperation. You’ll need your energy tomorrow boy. The forest undergrowth gets thicker as you move North. We can’t be more than seven days separated with the strength of that scent... – and that’s closer than we’ve been yet. We both know that entering the ‘Trees of the North’ in our condition will leave us without....well let’s just say we don’t have any guarantees.....eh?”....nothing like talking to your best friend to help you fall asleep at night, but nothing would put his mind at ease on the eve of what felt like a potential disaster....not even petting his
---something just moved in the woods... a shimmer in the moonlight he barely noticed out of the corner of his good eye. The giant dog's ears were twitching forward and sideways just for an instant, and at night his dogs ears and nose could see better than Jaric could. Somewhere out of his periphery it continued to slip between the trees. He kept his head still. The brilliant alpha froze, and so did the rest of the pack. All with a slight hackle rise on their backs....they needed to convince the thing....they weren’t ready – they were …sleeping. This was a survival tactic they’d used for years against large carnivorous game. It'd worked with bear and even other packs of wolves….a shadow between the trees flashed again. Much closer now. Jaric’s breath caught - …. ‘it’ smelled…..familiar.
