A subtle cry emanates from the forest. The five men get down from the horse, their senses at alert as they approach the forest. Their boots make the dry leaves on the ground rustle.
Rayne led the way while Harold and the rest draw out their claws, their eyes emanating a glow that scans the forest for any predator.
The moment they got to the place, a woman lay lying on the ground with her head bashed in, her eyes wide even in death.
“We are late!” Andrew cursed out, his dark eyes scanning the forest.
Rayne crouched on the floor and touched the ground with his hand, smelling it. He rose from the ground, his hand pointing to one part of the forest.
“He is nearby, and he is watching us. They aren't one or two. They are up two seven,” Rayne points out, trying to adjust his posture as
