Kwame's ears twitched, and he swore internally, he could hear the sound of rushing water. If his guess was correct, Reginald would be furious with them.
The jungle around the two were wolves grew thinner, the dim green light of the jungle giving way to the bright afternoon sun.
The ground started to slope downwards, and the soul beneath their feet was damp. Anhart was struggling to find the scent, the smell of countless animals and beasts clouding the air.
"Damnit!" The two werewolves skidded to a stop.
In front of them, was a wide river, the water rushed wildly ahead, and sharp rocks jutted high up out of the water.
"There!" Anhart grabbed Kwame, and pointed down to the right, where there was a little sandy beach at the side of the river.
From up on the bank, their keen eyes could make out the remains of tens of monkeys, blood staining the white sand.
