She barely heard Wulfric as she moved on the balls of her feet to watch his shadow move from tree to tree.
Then she lost him.
The hair on the back of her neck stood in awareness. It was eerily quiet, not even his steps echoing in the darkness. She blinked and stretched her senses, straining to find his peculiar double aura.
But it was gone. She pushed her other senses, desperate to smell him or sense his heartbeat.
For almost half an hour, there was nothing. Not even forest animals roamed nearby. They’d probably left this part of the forest to the larger predators long ago.
She had never wanted to be the little wife who was left waiting by the fire while her husband went off adventuring. That was what had killed her mom, and she wasn’t going to fall prey to the same mistake. At the moment, she wished she was inside by the fire though. It was so cold, and the longer she waited, the colder and darker it became.
She blew into her hands, her gloves not even close to being thick enough. She took a deep breath to blow again, but picked up the scent of someone else. Her nose flared, and her daggers came up slowly. The scent grew stronger, and panic threatened to claw at her throat. She hesitated to even swallow or breathe, afraid the nearing enemy would pick up the movement or sound.
This was it. This was how she would die.
She frowned and shook her head. Fuck that, she wouldn’t go down without a fight. She sensed the creature coming closer, and Scarlet leaned around the tree to see the target, reaching for her dagger.
A shadow launched itself, throwing her off balance and making them both roll as they landed on the frozen ground. Claws bit into her shoulder, and her hood twisted to half cover her face.
She couldn’t see her attacker, but there was no doubt it was a Growler. She swung her daggers, the familiar feel of flesh ripping beneath her hands. The coppery scent of blood hit her nose, and her nostrils widened as she panted, rolling them both until she straddled the creature.
It was definitely a Growler, but this one was smaller than Wulfric’s shifted form, closer to Scarlet’s own petite frame. She sliced shallowly and then back-handed the thing with the butt of her dagger.
A loud yip ripped through the air, piercing her ear drums. Scarlet winced and settled back on her haunches, one forearm pressed into the throat of the small thing.
“Stop fighting me, damn it. I’m not here to fight,” Scarlet whispered, shoving a knee over the lower legs and another over the left arm. She slammed her elbow into its throat, and it made a garbled noise even as Scarlet reached over and pinned the free arm.
“Stop, you little fucker. I only want information,” Scarlet hissed, expanding her senses to see if others were around. This one might be a decoy to distract her.
But no other scents, sounds, or auras flared. The wolf beneath her whined, and she eased up on the elbow to the throat. Scarlet frowned, seeing the same two-toned aura that Wulfric had but in red and gold instead of blue and silver.
“Who are you?” hissed the wolf, licking its lips.
Scarlet gave the only answer that might get her some answers. “Granddaughter of the druid.”
The wolf’s eyes went wide and another whine slipped free. The creature seemed to shake with fear as it gasped, “Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Why are you so scared of the druid?” Scarlet asked, not for the first time wondering why this reaction. She’d sensed some of it with Wulfric at first, but he’d been so injured, she’d thought it was because he was afraid of dying.
“She… there are tales of when she came here years ago. She almost wiped out the tribe before a truce was called.”
Scarlet blinked and frowned. What the hell? Why hadn’t she known this? Had her dad known about it? What had her grandmother done?
She shook her head. There was no time for that. She applied slightly more pressure on the throat then let up, her dagger gleaming next to the Growler’s cheek.
It swallowed hard as Scarlet continued. “So you know what I’m capable of and you’ll cooperate?”
The wolf nodded, flailing as it choked. Scarlet let off her throat but kept the dagger close.
“What’s the political climate in the tribe? Who’s in charge?”
The Growler whimpered, “The—the druid knows?”
Scarlet’s eyes narrowed. “Knows what?”
The Growler wiggled, but Scarlet didn’t let it up. “The alpha is missing. Brody says he was killed on patrol and took over with his three friends.”
Wulfric had mentioned that name. Dread settled through her spine like ice.