In a dark cave, where the only light came from the lit candles, a middle-aged woman stood before a drawn circle, cutting her palm while muttering foreign words. The moment the candlelight flickered, she paused and looked up at the man who appeared before her, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"Alpha Tristan," the woman said, bowing her head slightly in respect.
Tristan's eyes scanned the circle the woman was standing in, a frown forming on his face. "Do I even want to know?"
"You were the one who asked that I find the leader of the Ferals as soon as possible," she replied.
"And?" Tristan pressed, his expression serious.
The woman sighed, letting the knife fall to the floor. "Nothing. Either they have someone incredibly powerful who can hide their presence, or perhaps the Ferals don't have a leader at all."
"They do have a leader," Tristan stated firmly. "I'm certain of it."
