Duke Greyfur, in his human form, moved in faux casual movements down the road. He had successfully slipped into the town, and now wended his roundabout way toward the packhouse. He was walking slowly, in deliberate, curving lines. He was hunched low and occasionally darted in between homes, behind trees, and even behind bushes.
The packhouse was in his sight, but three wolves circled the premises, with each door also guarded. Duke Greyfur was contemplating how to get into the packhouse unnoticed.
But before he was able to think of a workable plan, the back door opened. Duke Greyfur was standing in the shadow of a large elm tree, to one side of the packhouse. He couldn’t quite see the figure who emerged into the evening air. But a prickling of the Duke’s intuition told him to follow the f
