You lean out the window and watch the traffic. You can definitely smell them now. A muddle of different scents, some husky and warm, some light and sweet, but all of them wolf. It takes another ten minutes to finally lay eyes on them. When you do, you can't help but raise your eyebrows.
They're riding motorbikes.
And not the cute little kind of motorbikes. These motorbikes are big, loud, and weaving between the cars like water around rocks, engines roaring.
"Oh, that's cool," Ed says, finally pocketing his phone.
"It's dangerous," Vicky growls. "They're calling attention to themselves."
"If I looked that cool I'd call attention to myself too," Ed informs her.
Marco's just staring, eyes wide.
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