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THE WHITE WOLF

South.

My nose confirmed my pack mate’s directions.

Five of us bounded through the woods, following the strange scent, while also trying to ignore the strange scent that flew and leapt above us.

My human had warned me an enemy was joining us in our hunt, so I held back the instinct to rip out his throat.

I’d been sating my need for revenge quite well for days anyway, and at least this blood taker hadn’t been one of the alphas trying to take our omega.

No, he’d said he was going to help us bring her home.

The pup by my side jumped happily over snow drifts and rocks, his tail wagging as he stopped to smell and mark every tree we came across.

I growled and nipped at his neck, reminding him we needed to keep moving.

The red wolf climbed on top of a large boulder, nose up high. He gave a small whine and jumped down.

Close.

He didn’t have to tell me, though. We all felt it. Even the blood taker.

We followed a small stream until it led us straight to a lake. Along the shore sat a tall rock—it looked like it had been stacked together by smaller, flat pieces, rising straight into the air.

The blood taker walked around it slowly, strange shadows spilling from his hands, poking and testing the surrounding air.

“This is definitely it,”

he said. He took a step forward, and I growled my response.

Wait.