Bloodhound Tracks Novels & Stories

Damien asked. “Tracking signs. You are not as careful as you think you are.” “We are very careful,” Damien said. “You left prints in the creek bed below the ridge road. Boot treads that match a size fourteen, which is not common. I cross-referenced three other sighting reports from the last month and drew a radius. It took me four days.” The quiet one, Silas, shifted slightly. Just his weight, barely anything, but I caught it. Damien held my gaze. “Four days,” he said.

Close enough to escape if they know the terrain. Branches whip against my shoulders as I follow the direction of the shot. Killian and Jason are only a few steps behind, while a dozen wolves fan out through the trees, searching for anything that doesn't belong. "Tracks!" someone shouts. We rush toward the voice. There are bare footprints that are deep enough to suggest someone has been lying prone for a long time. The trail runs downhill before disappearing onto a stretch of exposed stone. There is no blood or discarded evidence. Not even the shell casing of the gun that was used.

Even experienced trackers found themselves slowing. Eryndor suddenly raised a hand. The entire column stopped. "What is it?" Morwen asked. He knelt beside the path. "There are tracks." Grant stepped closer. "I don't see anything." "You aren't supposed to." Eryndor brushed aside a thin layer of leaves. Beneath them, a single footprint appeared. It wasn't human. It wasn't wolf. It looked almost burned into the earth itself. The old man sighed. "They've found us."

Confusion sets in when even Keres was examining for too long. I dismounted my horse, ignoring my trembling legs. “Let me see,” I said but they smirked openly at my attempt. I heard Shawn snapped at them, “Show respect. She’s a trained warrior and the best tracker at Moon Edge.” I knelt, examining the disturbed soil and scent patterns. Most tracks were too even…deliberate but two were real. “The rest are fake,” I said. “They split into two groups. We should part ways. Whoever finds the pups first sends a signal.”

Shannon was on the other side of the road; she was following a blood trail. “I think this is a trap.” She said abruptly, hurrying back to the vehicle. “What?” “We have to get out of here now.” Shannon warned with a distressed expression, dragging me to the car. Before I could register what was happening, I heard the pounding of wolf paws on earth and growls as a pack of hounds breached the roadside, ragged, driven by the thirst for blood, prepared to unalive us all. “Hounds.” Aiden roared, hurrying toward the vehicle to pull out the crossbow and quiver of arrows.

I thank her, then shift into my wolf form and begin the hunt. Trackers use a very specific kind of powder to cordon off hunting paths. It’s a plant-based compound that only wolf eyes can detect, but it leaves no scent or taste for other animals, meaning that an area could be marked well in advance and the returning prey would be none the wiser.

I said. "Max, you can come out now," I called out to him then turned around to the bushes where he was hiding. "Max," I called again but there was no feedback. I immediately sensed that something wasn't right so I left the antelope there heading towards the spot I asked him to hide. I looked around and there was still no sign of him anywhere. The only thing I saw was footprints of him leaving. "Where did you go, son," I whispered. I followed the footprints which were leading me east. While tracking him I saw a drip of blood along the way he went. I stopped then glanced back and I saw a handprint of blood on the stem of a tree.

"It is possible that they are hiding in the human form. That could be the reason why we can't trace their scents." "Your Majesty there were traces of human tracks in the East forest. Would you like me to go back and move the investigation further so we can know the truth?" I nodded my head. "That's a brilliant idea Beta Osuof, do that and let me know everything when you come back. Bring as many wolves that are good at tracking human scents, it will be useful for your investigation."

Six other wolves join us, snarling, whining, snapping at each other. I feel their restlessness. Their fear. "Gouged his femoral," she snaps without looking up. Bark mulch sticks to her blood-smeared forearms. "Trail's fresh, though. Two minutes, maybe three." Her nod jerks toward the ravine. “Tracks lead south.” Liam's snout wrinkles at the carnage. Smell that? Rotten meat and wet ash. His mental voice grates like steel wool. Same stench as the sheep killings.

I get to the clearing in record time. The trackers are already there and there are 20 wolves swarming the place. I get out of my car and walk over to Derrick, our lead tracker. “What have you got?” “Alpha. As you can see here, there were about 15 vehicles. We have a stronger scent of our packmate here,” He points to an area that has been sectioned off. I get down on all fours and sniff the ground. The smell is faint but it’s there. Vanilla, a lighter scent of lavender overlaid with honey.