The forest felt wrong before they had even crossed its first line of trees.
Logan rode near the front of the royal procession, his senses sharpened by weeks of Kira's careful training, something unsettled prickling along the back of his neck despite the ceremony's otherwise ordinary appearance. Nobles in formal hunting attire, servants carrying provisions, guards positioned at traditional intervals along the column.
"Something is wrong with this ground," Logan said quietly, falling back to ride beside Elena.
"Explain," Elena said, her own guard already raised following Adrian's devastating warning two nights earlier.
"The scent patterns," Logan said. "Too many unfamiliar trails crossing recently, too much disturbed brush along routes that should carry minimal traffic this time of year.
