The deep wilderness beyond Blackmoor's borders was a place where moonlight struggled to penetrate the canopy and shadows held secrets older than memory. We moved through it like ghosts, twenty wolves following a trail that seemed to vanish and reappear at will, leading us ever deeper into territory that no civilized pack had claimed.
I ran at the front of our formation, my enhanced senses straining to catch any hint of our quarry. The Shadowfang were clever—they'd laid false trails, used running water to mask their scent, even employed aromatic herbs to confuse our tracking. But they couldn't hide everything, and Senna was proving herself to be worth her weight in gold as she picked apart their deceptions one by one.
"They're heading for the Thornwall Ridge," she reported during our thir
