Chapter Thirteen – Cry of a WolfCal lifted his nose and sniffed at the damp air. People smell; an odour thick with stale sweat, cooked meat, ale, mead and smoke. It was drifting faintly through the trees, mixing unpleasantly with the fresh and earthy aromas of the forest. He turned his head and sniffed again, seeing several of the other wolves do the same before whining and glancing his way. Fear of man was a deep primal instinct for the wolves and they wanted to leave.
Padding forward to the edge of the trees, Cal gazed up at the stone fortress. It was ugly, a small mountain of piled rocks set starkly apart from the surrounding land and forest. It put a bad taste in his mouth just to look at it. He licked his chops. A breeze rustled the trees bringing more bad odours. Glancing to either
