ALARIC POV
Halfway to Crescent Moon, something changed.
I didn’t realize anything at the beginning, there was no sudden gust, no howl, no warning crack through the trees. Or maybe there had been but I was too fucused trying to scent our pups to notice.
And then Drake shock his head left, zeroing on something on the ground.
His stride shortened without conscious thought, muscles tightening under white fur as if the earth had tilted slightly and only he noticed the shift in gravity.
Not wolf.
Not patrol.
Not pack.
A scent.
Faint. Almost gone. But wrong enough to burn.
I dug my claws into the frozen soil and skidded to a halt so abruptly dirt sprayed up behind me in a rough arc. My chest heaved once, twice, as he lowered our muzzle to the ground.
There.
Peanut butter.
Grape jelly
