Ronan
The air is cold and sharp today. The kind of cold that wakes the senses, that makes every shift of wind feel like a whisper carrying someone else’s scent.
We’ve been running the northern edge of Blackthorn for two hours now, and the trail is too clean for my liking. Too quiet after all the activity in the preceding days.
Then I see it. A claw mark carved deep into the trunk of a pine, the sap still bleeding fresh and gold. The edges are deliberately ragged. This wasn’t a lazy stretch from a passing wolf, this is a signature.
I step closer, palm against the grooves and inhale deeply. It’s someone from Redmaw, without a doubt.
The wolf in me shoves against my ribs, all teeth and forward momentum.
I can almost see them in my mind’s eye. A scout with too much confidence and not en
