Bloodhound Tracks Novels & Stories

"I will go prepare them right now." I also mindlinked the trackers, and they soon appeared before me, already in their wolf form, waiting for orders. “Fan out. Follow every scent, every trace of movement. I want to know what direction they took, how fast they moved, what kind of boots they wore, hell — if they breathed heavily or lightly.” They growled in response before charging into different paths. I continued looking around, and then noticed another footprint. Not Kylie's or the night creature's, it was different.

But she couldn’t forget for long. Following her keen sense of smell, she soon stumbled upon the car tracks from the kidnapping scene, still visible despite the passage of time. They served as a haunting reminder of the danger lurking in their territory. The scent of fear and blood still lingered in the air, making her fur stand on end. She stopped and sniffed the tracks, trying to pick up any clues or traces that might lead her to the kidnappers. She had been following this trail for week, but she had hit a dead end every time. She was frustrated and angry, but she refused to give up.

his tone quivering. “And where do you think you are going to?” I asked, tightening my grip on his arm. “You will be in front till we get there.” When we got to the spot, the scout pointed to the ground. “Here.” I bent down, taking a closer look at the tracks. They were big, almost as thrice as a normal wolf or rogue, with deep, sharp claws that marked raw power. The distance between each step was unusual which made their precision deliberate and primal.

"Survivors. Scavengers. Or worse, Killian's spies, picking at the bones." "Shut it," Axel snapped at him, then softer to me. "Rest, at least. Dawn's close. We'll pick it up fresh." I wanted to argue, but the exhaustion hit like a wave, pulling me under. "Fine. One hour. Then we move." At dawn we found tracks. Barefoot, light, half-erased by rain. Too small for a man, too deliberate for a lost traveler. My wolf lunged inside me, demanding to run.

He looked up, amber eyes cold, serious in a way I’d never seen. He stepped aside. On the earth, tracks. Fresh. Deep. Not wolf tracks. Not rogue. Bigger, heavier, something I’d never seen before. Rhydian crouched beside them. Silence stretched. “What is that?” I said. He didn’t answer right away. Studied the tracks, then looked north, into the thick old-growth where dawn hadn’t made it yet. Something flickered through his expression, fear, and he couldn’t hide it.

Every hour increased the chance that someone else would reach her first. That... I couldn't allow. The corruption scouts returned shortly before noon. "Fresh tracks," one reported. I crouched without a word. The footprints belonged to a wolf, a wolf large, strong and travelling alone. I put two fingers across the edge of one print. It was still fresh, less than a day old. "Rebecca?" another soldier asked. I shook my head. "No." The stride was too long. Too heavy. Male. Someone else was tracking her.

Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted. * The wolves set out with hunters and trackers that had the experience of finding anything in the space of time. They were well trained in tracking and following trails, in sniffing out any kind of trail that might be a lead. Most importantly, they knew their prey by scent, their eyesight, and their ears. They tracked her through miles of forest, down to the lakes and streams, through rivers and ponds. They followed her scent over hill and over dale, past houses and farms and gardens. She’d left behind many clues as to her whereabouts, but they still followed them without hesitation.

My soul was trembling in fear. The heartbeat kept on growing, fading. Over time the sound was increasing. A dusty window from where a gust of wind came caught my attention as I moved my head following it. Just at that moment, the flashlight fell on my eyes, and I glanced back at the entrance with a minimal gaze. I noticed a shadow standing in front of me, wearing a long white blanket and holding a lantern in one hand. "ARHHHHHH!" I screamed, rivalled by the blast of thunder and rain.

Into territory even the trees seemed afraid of. The fog got thicker. The birds stopped singing. Kaela’s wolf itched under her skin, restless, pacing. She wasn’t scared. But she wasn’t calm, either. Then— Lira stopped ahead, hand up. Motionless. Kaela and Ronan joined her, crouched low. “What?” Kaela whispered. Lira pointed. Tracks. So many. Dozens of them, maybe more. The same twisted claw marks. All different sizes. Some small. Some huge. Fresh. New.

“A sign of trouble and I don’t need to tell you who it is.” I caught a foreign scent in the wind. The backyard was connected to the forest so I ventured forward. I noticed tracked in the dirt and crouched to scrutinize them. “Too thin to be any vehicle… could be a bicycle or a wheelchair. A wheelchair doesn’t make any sense.” I looked up and followed the tracks until they stopped at the patches of grass. Something flashed between the trees. I gasped. “Danger,” my wolf warned. A figure dressed in black and distinct purple boots darted between the trees again. I’m not seeing things someone is here!