KERES POV
Fear could smell different ways.
A kid’s fear was subtle, almost invisible under milk, soap, sugar, and whatever sticky disaster they had touched last. But when you caught even a whiff of it, your guts twisted instantly. No pleasure there. No hunger. Just the kind of wrong that made every decent wolf look for the thing causing it and tear it apart.
Then there was fear tied to anticipation, to fight-or-flight, to a body realizing violence had entered the room before the brain could dress it up as bravery. That one was easier to scent. Sharp and pungent, spreading wide even in crowded places.
And there was the clean, bright fear of a warrior who knew death was coming and had decided to bare his teeth anyway.
Richard, though?
His was ugly fear.
Sweat-slick. Sour. Cowardly. Th
