Bloodhound Tracks Novels & Stories

Each step carried him closer to blood, to fire, to vengeance. And nothing…nothing…was going to stop him now. … Damon shifted as he came out on the road, using his senses to smell and detect the direction of their tracks. As soon as he had it clearly, he sped off towards without hesitation. He picked up more signs as he ran…Heavy boots. Military grade tread. The churned earth of armored vehicles. The scent of oil and gunpowder. And beneath it all…faint, lingering, unmistakable.

KAI Sweeping the bright beam of my tactical flashlight across the red snow, my chest tightened. Three of our best bloodhound trackers were down on their hands and knees, sniffing the frozen ground around the oak tree. They looked completely baffled. "Talk to me," I ordered, my voice cutting through the freezing wind. "There has to be something. A print. A drop of rogue blood. Anything."

The tread pattern was unfamiliar, a crosshatch design that suggested reinforced soles, boots made for marching rather than riding or hunting. "Two pairs," Austin murmured, his fingers tracing the edges without touching. "Heavy. Moving with purpose. Not running from the hound - moving toward the area where it would emerge." I studied the spacing. The stride was even, unhurried. Whoever made these tracks knew exactly where they were going. They did not panic when the corrupted beast broke loose. They did not flee. "They released it," I said. "Or they were there when it turned. They watched." "More." Austin pointed to a scuff mark on a tree trunk, chest-high. "Someone leaned here. Waited. The b

*** Late afternoon, Cassien returned, his expression was different. "What happened?" "The eastern scouts came back." "And?" "They found tracks." I stood immediately "Rogues?" "No." He unrolled a rough sketch. One footprint, too large for a human, too small for a full wolf. I studied it. "Have you seen anything like this before?" "No." "They followed them?" "They reached the eastern forest." "And?" Cassien's voice dropped. "The tracks crossed beyond our border." I walked toward the window overlooking Thornridge, beyond the distant trees...

She mumbled to herself. “Maybe you were looking at the wrong angle.” Her voice rang inside Amanda’s ears. She huffed and stood up, “Well show me, master.” “Tracking someone isn’t just about sniffing for their scent or looking for their footprint.” Mira began as she crouched down to inspect the footprint on the damp soil. “It almost means pretending yourself as that person. Figure out where he could have been running. Broken branches. Drops of blood. The tears of clothes. Look for anything suspicious. Not just the footprint and scent.” She stood up. “You wouldn’t want to go against the wind. Where is the direction of the wind?”

I left no stone unturned, but there was no evidence that she was ever here. No scent, no leftover fear or emotions to hold on to. Except for the camera recording, which pinpointed her location as this area, everything else showed nothing, and it was frustrating. So when Trent announced he found something, I ran. I met him crouching low on the ground, fingers grazing the earth. “Boot tracks,” he said simply. One of the trackers said they caught a faint scent around here. It might be nothing, but—

As I shifted, revealing my massive wolf that stood at 4,5" when on all fours. My paws were as big as a human face. I sniffed the air once again and followed her smell. It stopped by the lake where Damian had investigated earlier. I caught sight of the footprints on the ground. I saw two lines which indicated feet dragging and knew it as hers. Then I saw the bottle of scent covering spray at the end of the tracks. In a nearby bush. I tried to sniff out other scents but there were none. Just mud was all I could smell. I howled in hopes of maybe hearing her howl back. My heart skipped a beat at every second that passed that I didn't hear her. Then I hear her howl. My feet started pounding into

It was going to be nearly impossible to track his unusual herbal scent. I entered the thick forest anyway. I knew the northern trail perfectly, and I knew where the hurdles had been set up. I walked at a brutal, rapid pace, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I examined the muddy trail under the heavy rain. Most tracks led back toward the camp, but near a narrow bend in the path, I noticed a strange pattern. The mud on the main trail was heavily trampled by several wolves running close together, but there was a sudden divergence of tracks that looked messy and cluttered, like a scramble.

Bones snapped, fur pushed out, and my wolf wanted blood. Caleb and four others were already waiting when I got to the field, Jax, Rylan, and the two brothers who could track anything. All shifted. I didn’t waste time. I jerked my head north. His blood trail starts near the old logging road. He’s weak and moving slow. We took off. The scent hit me first, sour, mixed with fear. Drops of blood on the leaves. A ripped piece of his shirt stuck on a branch like he wanted us to see it.

“Cost is irrelevant. Find him.” The professional trackers returned with a grim analysis. “An old wolf on foot cannot outrun a scent-hound for a full day. If there’s no trail, he was taken. Someone put him in a silver-lined transport and drove him out. We have done all we can, Sovereign.”