Caelum Vance
The night smelled wrong.
The air changed as Ashenveil’s dry heat fell away behind me and the north came in. Cooler. Wetter. The smell of living things, green and persistent. And underneath all of it, threading through every breath of wind off the trees, the particular wild smell that meant wolf territory.
My shadow guard felt it too. Seryn, riding at my right shoulder, had gone more still than usual. The others were the same — controlled tension. Perhaps they were wondering why I had called them out, what could be so important that I would leave the safety and sanctuary of my keep.
We had been riding for four hours when I sensed a restlessness in my guard. In my hurry to start the journey I had not given any of them time to feed. The ride was arousing their appetite, but I
