Reading Trail Novels & Stories

"And we kill the trapper." He sighs. It’s the sound of a man accepting his fate. "Okay," he says. "We get her. But you stay behind me. And if I say run... you run." "Deal." We track them. It’s not hard. They wanted to be found. They left a trail a blind man could follow—broken branches, scuffed moss, the occasional wrapper. We move silent and slow. Drakon takes the lead, moving like a shadow. I follow in his footsteps, watching the rear.

If she wants something more difficult, then I have another trail in mind that’s sure to excite her. It takes some time to reach it, but when we near the border of Riverton, I veer off onto a narrower trail and watch in my mirror as Serena follows. This trail is bumpy and winding as compared to the last, but even as we start out onto it, Serena’s whipping around tight corners like a pro, fearlessly cruising down sharp inclines at full speed. After a while, I’m checking on her in my mirror less and less, confident that she’s got this as I navigate the trail.

“James, you are better with trails than us. I need you to follow Greg’s scent and see if you can track it further than my trackers have been able to. They always lose the trail in the same spot.” James nodded in agreement and sniffed the air; even though it was a few days old, he caught what he believed to be Greg’s scent. He followed the scent slowly so he wouldn’t miss a single detail. The trail went relatively straight, but he wondered why Greg had cut through the forest to go to Lily’s apartment when the roads were much more direct and easier. When he was about halfway to her apartment, the scent had just ended. This must have been the spot where the trackers lost the scent; he thought a

“I can’t see magical traces!” “You can feel them,” she says like I’m being difficult. “Trust your instincts.” I open my mouth to argue more. Then I shut it. Because wolves do track by instinct, and I do feel something faint. Like a tug at the back of my spine. Like a whisper pointing east. Fine. I follow it against my better judgment. Grumbling the entire way. The trail leads me down an alley I’m fairly sure isn’t supposed to exist. One second I’m walking past a mural of a two-headed cat, and the next I’m stepping into a corridor that smells like burnt sugar and old copper.

she had left the country back then. Stepping out of the company, I entered my car. "Where to, mam?" the driver asked. "Just take me back to the mansion..." I replied as the driver started the car engine, driving along the road as we left the company. As he drove on, I could sight something unusual... it was a particular vehicle, one that I had noticed right from the company till now. It seemed to be trailing me. "Somebody is trailing my movement," I uttered. "Oh, really, mam?" the driver asked.

Damn! But, despite the distinctly smelling minuses, there were pluses. Igor and Oleg accompanied me to the fitness center only four times out of seven. Inside, as I expected, they did not go in, faithfully waiting for me not far from the main entrance. And today, leaving the house and all the way here, I did not notice them anywhere. Listening to her instincts, the she-wolf also confirmed that she did not seem to feel them. So I went into the locker room and changed into my tracksuit, which I had kept in my locker here since the first day I went to the pool. As well as spare shoes. And a backpack, in which there was some cash withdrawn here, at an ATM, and a detailed map of the Leningrad reg

I could not. “Tracking party for Pearl,” Nathan said softly now. The words entered the room like a second silence layered over the first. Even the sunlight harbored itself behind a cloud for a breath. “The last sign puts her past the stone breaks, moving west toward the old crossroads. The trail is… strange.” “Strange,” Katia repeated, and nothing in her voice betrayed laughter now. “She runs,” I thought viciously. “She runs like guilt does.”

This is what was happening at Zayden's packhouse while I was working the corridor geography and having careful conversations with Jace and watching Lydia rebuild from diminished: The trail from the eastern wall had gone cold within two miles. Pell — the scout who had tracked Jace's approach through neutral territory and whose intelligence had given us the three-day estimate that Jace had deliberately rewritten — had followed the departure trail with everything available to him and had lost it at a stream crossing three miles from the packhouse. A stream crossing chosen, he later assessed, with the specific knowledge of how wolf tracking works and where it tends to fail. Running water erases

Say what. I snatched my foot back,blinked and did it again. The flowers parted.Cautiously,I put my foot down once more and just like the Red Sea,thy parted to make way for me.Well alright then.Ulrik has finally realized I'm not behind him n stopped to wait on me.I know I need to hurry but I keep stopping to smell the roses. And daisies. And pansies. And heaven knows what else but they smelled amazing,a real olfactory delight.

Nothing mattered except following the trail, and the scent remained consistent enough to hold his attention and that alone was enough to keep him moving. The bond lingered quietly in the background, he wasn’t actively searching for it, he simply couldn’t stop feeling it. Even weakened by distance, even faint enough to frustrate him, the connection remained. He focused on the trail and allowed himself to trust it, and the further he ran the more natural that trust became because the scent continued, the trail continued, and after days spent staring at dead ends this felt like progress. Maybe this was finally something. Maybe the trail would lead somewhere useful.