I lift my head and sniff the breeze, my tracking nose still tainted by the scent of revenants. But in this instance, I know it will serve me well. Magic moves around me in the quiet, snow-bound forest, witches of the Council forming a semi-circle, in an attempt to flush out our prey.
Femke's mind touches mine, foreign and cool but welcome. Any luck?
I have his trail, I send as the first whiff of the fleeing revenant carries to me. A few miles ahead, from the taste of him.
She releases me, the line tightening around me. I ghost through the trees in full wereform, the snow soft under my paws, the fresh fall powdering around me from the cloud-darkened sky. The forest feels eerily silent, no creatures stirring, birds long since flown for cover. I've never felt a woodland so quiet, as though
