Elara's POV
The blood on the feather was a very dark, wet red in the moonlight. It felt more like an accusation.
"Was this hers?" I whispered, holding it up. "Did she get hurt?"
"Or did she hurt someone else?" Rylan grunted, wincing as Sela tightened a bandage on his shoulder.
Lucian took the feather from me, sniffing it carefully. His brow furrowed. "It's not her blood. The scent is… feral. Wolf, but wrong. Just like the cursed ones." He looked around the dark canyon, his senses stretching. "She intervened. While your light shocked them, she must have struck. She killed or drove off something we didn't even notice."
The thought was unsettling. We had an unseen competitor. Or an unseen guardian. We are yet to find out.
"We keep moving," Lucian decided. "We can't stay in this canyon.
