Thirty-two
“Heard you’re good at spotting demons,” Axe said, his voice low. “Any round here?”
Brice focused. There were old traces, of course, but anything recent was too far away to be a problem.
“We’re good,” he said. Axe turned to him, grey eyes running over his face, a lip turned up in a sneer.
Of course Axe didn’t trust Brice. Even though he’d saved the man’s life at the drop, Brice was still an outsider.
“Wolf’s entrance is just round the corner,” Axe said from the side of his mouth. “Should be sentries soon.”
The path grew narrow, but branches at the sides were broken, and the ground was worn down to mud. And in that mud, Brice saw large bootprints.
He focused, and now he could taste the other traces. The grey ones.
“Useless, this lot,” Axe said, walking taller now, as if he
