a little way off, careful not to disturb the snow immediately around the kiosk. Birdcat shifted back to human form, his scent tense and ready. “You smell Vance?”
*Yes.* He sniffed cautiously at a spot by the door, and nearly gagged with revulsion. *Deathsnake was here.*
Birdcat winced. “Not one of your more reassuring nicknames, Fenrir.”
*Is what he is.*
There was no other way to describe that poisonous reek. Even several hours’ old, the air still carried a cold, reptilian taste. A mix of serpent, and powerful male, and danger.
Birdcat was scanning the forest with an eagle’s alert, all-seeing stare. His hands were crooked at his sides, ready to shift into claws in an instant. “If Vance is that dangerous, we’ll need the others down here.”
*Not yet,* Fenrir replied. *Stay still. Am concentrating.*
He closed his eyes, focusing on the faded tapestry of scent. It was hard to ignore those spine-stiffening top notes of dangerthreatpredatordeath, but with effort he managed to catch a trace of lingering emotion underneath the man’s signature scent. He had stood here, heart pounding hard with adrenaline, and anxiety, and…fear?
Fenrir flattened his ears, his unease growing. What could have frightened something as powerful as the death-snake-man?
“You look like you’ve found something,” Birdcat said.
*Yes. Deathsnake’s trail. Think he stood here alone for a while. Think…think he must have been talking to someone else. Someone who wasn’t here.*
“On a phone, you mean?”
*Yes.* Fenrir worked his way around the car park, fitting the fragments of scent together. *Something alarmed him. He left, on a small thing. Over the snow, not following the road.*
“A snowmobile. That means he can’t have gone too far.” Birdcat’s eyes unfocussed for a moment as he conferred with the rest of the pack. “Callum still says he can’t sense anything. Can you follow the trail?”
*Will lead the pack on this hunt. But do not follow too close behind.*
Birdcat nodded. “I’ll stay high overhead, and warn the others to hang back. That way none of us will contaminate the trail.”
That was a valid reason for everyone else to keep their distance…but not Fenrir’s primary concern. Whatever the Deathsnake was, he didn’t want his friends anywhere near it.
He ran on ahead, leaping easily through the snow. He had Deathsnake’s scent now; he followed the trail with his heart as much as his nose, in the way that only a hellhound could.
And then he picked up another scent. A fresh one. One as familiar as his own fur…
*Fenrir, I’m having trouble keeping you in sight through the trees.* Birdcat was a golden glint in the sky, seen only in glimpses through the thickening forest canopy. *Slow down!*
*Can’t!* he flung back. *Sister! Sister is on same trail!*
*Lupa?* Birdcat’s mental voice sharpened in alarm. *Here? Now?*
*Yes!* He lengthened his stride. *Have to go on ahead. Have to catch her!*
*FENRIR!* Birdcat’s roar echoed in his head. *Wait-!*
Too late. Between one step and the next, Fenrir phased into hellspace.
There was nothing to it, really. He had been there, and now he was here, in this dark, hot, secret place. Moving from one to the other was as easy as taking a step.
The trees were just ghostly shadows now, without scent or substance. He passed through them easily, without so much as a ripple in his fur.
Distance worked differently here. In a few strides, he’d left Birdcat and the others far behind. He could see further, too, looking through things.
He picked out a tiny cabin, clinging high on the mountainside. One jump, two—and he was there.
*SISTER!* he cried as he dropped into normal space again.
She’d been coming out of the cabin, a small bag slung over one shoulder. She whirled at his howl, whipping her tranquilizer pistol out of its holster. Once again, Fenrir found himself staring at the needle-sharp tip of a dart—but this time, she didn’t fire.
“Stay back!” his sister shouted. The anti-shift serum glowed in the glass chamber of the dart. “I’m warning you, I’ll shoot! Don’t think I won’t!”
*Know that.* Carefully, he put down one paw, easing closer to her. *But also know we are pack. And pack does not hurt pack.*
The serpent mark on her forehead lit up, just a faint wash of crimson light. His sister tilted her head a little, as though someone had called her name.
“You don’t really care about me,” she spat. “You’re with them. You just want to stop me.”
*Want to help you.* Another slow, cautious step. *Am your brother. No matter what Snakemother is telling you, we are pack. Always. Know you feel that bond too.*
“Lupa,