At twenty to eight, I step out through the side entrance and straight into heavy rain.
I love being out in it.
For a moment, I stand with my face tilted to the sky, my eyes closed as water soaks through my hair and runs down my neck. I take a deep inhale, the smell of petrichor fills my nose, sharp and clean in my lungs.
In the nearest cubicle, I strip off my clothes, folding the still-soft navy joggers and my torn white polo into the back corner, where no one is likely to come across them.
Grey, in particular.
Because tonight is her first evening patrol since my grandfather asked me to shadow her.
Calix steps into the rain and lifts his broad head to the heavens.
He likes the rain too.
Rain can muddle scent trails, but that only sharpens his focus. He enjoys the challenge of it, a
