Nathan
I stormed out of the pack house, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
Immediately, I shifted. Ragnar emerged with practised ease, his dark fur rippling in the moonlight as I caught Lyla's scent in the wind. The trails were fresh, tinged with blood from all the Ferals and Trinax she fought.
I followed her scent through the maze of mingling scents surrounding the White Moon Pack. My paws pounded against the earth, as I pushed forward. I tracked her through the territory, following a path that took me toward the White Moon Pack's borders.
Almost at the borders, it veered off to the edge of the dense forest surrounding the pack's territory. As I approached the tree line, my hackles rose, indicating that someone was watching me. I stopped for a moment; my ears perked as I surveyed the area. There was nothing… no one except me. But something felt… off.
