Bloodhound Tracks Novels & Stories

A photo one of the scouts sent from the mill road, a wide, dark stain soaked into the gravel at the old crossing, and tracks leading away from it into the trees, too large and too oddly spaced to belong to any wolf either of us recognizes. “No body,” Marcus says. “Just this. Whoever it was either walked away or was carried.” “Ours or theirs?” “We don’t know yet. Nobody’s reported missing on our side. I’ve already sent word to ask if Ashborn’s short anyone.” I look at the image a moment longer, at the shape of those tracks, and something in me, older than the sickness, older than two years of grief, goes very quiet and very alert at once. “Keep this between us for now,” I say. “Until we know

Bella held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs as the sound faded back into the mist. But as the stranger slowly released his grip, Bella’s eyes drifted down to the wet mud right at the edge of the rocky overhang. Her breath caught in her throat. Deep, fresh, and massive paw prints were embedded in the earth, circling the very perimeter of the spring where they were standing. They were far larger than any standard tracking wolf or pack enforcer. The mud inside the grooves hadn't even settled yet. Those tracks didn’t belong to any wolf Bella had ever seen.

The scent of pine and damp earth filled my nose as we moved quickly. At the spot, I crouched down, studying the tracks. They were small, too small for any of my warriors. My chest tightened. “These are hers,” I said quietly. “And these?” Ryder pointed to bigger prints over hers. I studied them closely. The person had been careful—but not enough. “They’re human,” I said, my jaw clenching. “But there’s something odd. They’re too… precise, like they knew exactly what to do.” Ryder nodded, looking serious. “A professional, then.”

A brown creature stepped out of the darkness upon hearing the sounds of thudding. The animal, the huge hound that watched him with predatory orange eyes. It was fucking huge. The hound's height competed with that of a full grown adult, that neither the buildings nor the darkness could shadow the beast. For one the big beast was brown, with not just any white but snow white trails guiding along it's brown fur. A sharp spear-like black mark that started from the eyeline of its eyes, passed the crinkles of the edge of the beast's eyes down to the start of its ear.

It was the rhythmic baying of hounds—Silas’s specialized trackers, bred to hunt down the White Wolf. They are close, Cassian said, his eyes scanning the dark treeline. He helped her to her feet, his arm wrapping around her waist to keep her upright. Elidra’s legs felt like they were made of water, the silver still humming in her veins, making every movement a struggle against paralysis. We can't stay by the water, she panted. They will follow the scent of the blood. Cassian looked at the steep, rocky slope leading away from the river. It was a brutal climb,

But it’s filled with water. Like a well? Yes, and no. You’re full of information tonight, aren’t you. I heard her wolf snort with laughter, if a wolf could snort. I’m serious! The tracks… they’re similar to what I saw the other day. What do they look like? I can’t describe it. Long, but not a wolf. No pads or treads. It’s like… like if a wing brushed dirt? That doesn’t sound like it makes any sense.

Cade mind linked Beau and Beau got his best trackers on her scent. When we got to the park, the trackers were able to pick up her scent immediately. We followed them in wolf form. When we got to the interstate, we stuck to the woods on the highway. When the trackers stopped at a demolished vehicle, my heart sank. The only solace I had was that I hadn't felt the mate bond break yet, so I know she is alive. I just pray to Goddess that she stays that way. I can't lose her yet.

________________________ The hounds picked up the trail outside the apartment. It led us through the woods, past a clearing filled with footprints, to a place where the earth had been disturbed. Footprints, dirt bikes, cars... "They moved her," Kylan said. "Recently." "Can the hounds follow?" He looked at the dogs. They were circling, noses to the ground, tails low. They had lost the scent again. "No." I stared at the tracks. They led east, toward a road, toward the distant smoke I had smelled when we first crossed.

My brows shot up when I saw what she was pointing at. Rabbit tracks. “The other rogue must have gone this way,” she said, peering into the bushes. “We should follow these tracks.” Zane shot me an amused look. I just shook my head and kept looking around. Bianca waved Marcus over and showed him the tracks. From where I stood, I could hear him grunt, “You do realize those are rabbit tracks, right? Not wolf tracks?” I didn’t bother looking to see her reaction, although I could hear her stammering something out in response. Just then, I spotted it—a patch of murky, slightly muddy dirt.

The tracks were unlike anything she’d seen long, narrow, and clawed, with a strange double print, like something walking on two legs but with the drag of something else behind it. Ragnar crouched beside them, brushing his fingers lightly over the impressions. “Scavenger-beasts. They use them to track scents over miles. Once one of these has your scent, they never stop following.” “How do you kill them?” she asked. “You don’t,” he said flatly. “You outrun them, or you kill the handler before it finds you.” She looked down at the prints, her mind already turning over the possibilities. The Blood Oath had marked her. They’d sent trackers into her territory. This wasn’t just intimidation. This w