Skirting their camp, Brance picked up the scent of men among the bushes. It was an old smell—they had left hours ago—but it was still traceable. He followed it through the woods, ignoring the instincts that railed against the stench, and soon found himself on the same path Caleb had led him down the night before.
As he approached the hunters’ camp, orange firelight flickered among the brush, fighting back the shadows. Brance crouched down and crept through the undergrowth, silent. Perhaps he would catch them asleep. What he’d do then… well, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but his claws kneaded the ground as if eager to tear into human flesh and, try as he might, he couldn’t stop his rear haunches from screwing up to pounce.
At the edge of the clearing he stopped, just inside the bushes
