The Wolf's Game
“Thanks, I practice.”
We push on until the mist lightens and the air turns crisp again. I am finally able to draw in a full breath. The tracks split, one set darting north, another east. Eleven rabbits. Eleven paths. Somewhere behind us, a scream rips through the silence. It is raw, human, and brief.
We freeze.
“That sounded like the old wolf,” Kael says.
“Corran.” I scan the trees. The forest is still again, pretending to be innocent in all of this.