Snow fell around them, covering the tracks of the two large werewolves who were trudging through the snow-filled paths.
Lucien led the way away from the creek and deeper into the ancient depths of the WhiteVale’s.
The deeper they went into Whitevale, the larger the trees and the more silent everything became. Throughout their walk, Lucien had never once let down his guard. The thought that this could all be another ambush had crossed his mind and he was more than ready for that. His grip on his cane was tighter than it had ever been. His pulse was racing as he moved.
Lucien didn’t turn around, he didn’t speak.
He just walked, or rather, limped, silent and brooding as he led Varion through winding trees and paths that had not been trodden in years.
When he reached a silent clearing
