“Deep in the forest, maybe a mile past the old oak grove. He was unconscious, bleeding heavily from multiple wounds.”
“What else did you see? Any signs of his attackers? Strange scents? Anything unusual?”
I think about the red mist, but something makes me hesitate. Did I imagine it? It seemed so real at the time, swirling around us, but maybe it was just some kind of hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just him, injured and alone.”
“The wounds,” he presses. “What did they look like? Claw marks? Bite marks?”
“Claw marks, mostly. Deep ones. Whatever attacked him wasn’t human.” I meet his gaze steadily.
Seth’s frown deepens. My calm, straightforward answers are clearly not what he expected. I can see the confusion in his expression, the way he keeps stu
