Chapter Twenty-Seven
A terrifying howl pierced the air, causing the entire tribe to stop in their tracks, the adults hunkering down protectively over their children while the scouts drew their weapons.
Still on his feet beside the crouching huntmaster, Hector spoke calmly, one hand raised for attention. ‘That was Enis, I’m sure. Something is wrong at the ravine.’
Hector had been guiding the group for the better part of the last two days, making sure that the paths they followed were out of sight of the Pale’s long-range viewfinders, which he knew would regularly quarter the expansive terrain of Broad Plain. The Storm had not ventured so far north in their annual circuit for many years, and the wide stretch of the plain as it spread between the Pale and the escarpment of the canini ravin
