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Eric’s brow furrowed as he glanced between Van and Peterson, his eyes narrowed as he listened. His concern grew that the conversation was about Jayden when Eric jerked his head toward the tent. He strained to hear the men’s conversation, but their voices were lost as they disappeared into the tent. He glanced up to the tree limb above him, but the owl had vanished without a sound.

“Van.”

He turned his head and focused on Peterson. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, man. It’s just a scratch,” he replied.

Peterson tried to lift his head, but gave up. “Looks like a lot of blood for a scratch.”

“I’ve had hangnails that hurt worse.”

Peterson snorted and blinked. “Jayden?”

The question hung in the air, unasked but heavy, and the knot of dread tightened in his stomach. Eric called out to the two guards who were sitting by the fire. The instructions must have been crucial, as both nodded and vanished into the night without a word.

“They won’t find her. You know how smart she is,” he said.

Peterson lifted his head. “You gotta get this thing off of me. I’m going to rip that bastard’s throat out.”

“You and me both. Just… don’t piss him off until I do. Promise?”

Peterson snorted, laid his head back down, and closed his eyes. “I feel like shit.”

Van chuckled and leaned his head back. “You look like shit, too.”

Jayden peered down from the tree, the branches creaking softly beneath her weight as she watched the forest below. Through the branches, she saw the warm glow of a campfire and the faint light from a lantern inside a tent. The full moon turned out to be a silver lining. It had given her enough light to follow the men’s tracks.

She might have missed their camp if the night’s silence hadn’t been interrupted by the shifter’s loud fart and the low crude comments that followed. The sudden gentle whoosh of wings startled her. With a silent curse escaping her lips, she glared at the barred owl, its piercing dark eyes fixated on her as it perched on a nearby branch.

The owl’s head swiveled, its dark eyes staring at her for a moment before looking down. Following the owl’s gaze, Jayden froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized what the owl had spotted. A guard, barely visible in the shadows, had stopped just twenty feet beneath her. She wrinkled her nose in revulsion when he bent forward and expelled a noxious cloud of gas, before letting out a sigh.

“I told you not to eat those damn freeze-dried beans,” a woman stated.

“I feel like I’m about to shit them out. There ought to be a law against those things,” the shifter moaned.

“Go take a crap while you can. If you don’t stop farting, Singleton will kill you. I’ll cover for you,” the woman snapped.

“Thanks, Red,” the man muttered.

“I just don’t want to stand downwind of you all night,” Red snapped.

From her vantage point, Jayden observed Red continue her patrol while the gas-man moved further into the woods. She returned her attention to the male. She might never get another chance to take him. With a firm grip on the trunk, she was just starting her quiet descent when the owl, a silent predator in the night, swooped down towards the shifter.

The shifter, alerted by the owl’s whooshing wings, turned and looked upward. Jayden wasn’t sure what happened. One second the shifter was staring up at her with a shocked expression on his face, the next he was clutching his throat, a strangled gasp escaping his lips.

With a nearly silent whoosh of wings, the owl angled upward, landing on a branch several yards from her. Her eyes, wide with shock, moved slowly from the lifeless shifter to the silent owl watching from the shadows. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the crimson blood dripping from the talons, each drop sparkling like a ruby. She nodded slowly, her head barely moving, a silent acknowledgement of her understanding. She felt a surge of hope, knowing that this creature, whoever or whatever it was, could help her rescue her mates.

She glanced at the lifeless shifter, her mind racing. Had this been the same creature lurking in the woods with her and Tracy? And were there others? The owl had vanished when she turned to look at the tree again. Aware of the body’s inevitable discovery, she descended from the tree. Her abused palms stung from the rough bark, and her throbbing leg ached as she landed silently on the mossy forest floor.

She moved stealthily; her footsteps muffled by the soft earth as she crept closer to the camp. The approaching footsteps, slow and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She sank down, flattening herself against the cold, hard ground. With a practiced motion, she slid her hand down her leg, her fingers brushing the rough leather of her boot, until her hand met the familiar, reassuring weight of the knife. With a gentle tug, she freed it from its sheath.

“Have you seen Bailey?” a man asked.

“Yeah. He needed to take a crap. I warned him about eating those beans. Maybe next time he’ll listen to me,” Red replied.

“Now’s not the time to have a fucking stomach ache. Something’s wrong,” the man said.