The scent hit her first. Wet fur, iron, and underneath it all, fear.
Reign crouched at the canyon's edge, watching the hunting party move through the pass below. Six wolves, all wearing Kieran's colors. They moved in formation, disciplined enough to be pack trained but sloppy enough to suggest they expected an easy kill.
They thought she was prey. They thought wrong.
She'd been tracking them since dawn, learning their patterns. The leader favored his left side, probably an old injury. The youngest kept glancing at the cliffs, nervous about ambush. The others were competent but predictable, following protocols they'd drilled a thousand times.
That predictability would kill them.
The snow here was deep enough to hide bodies but solid enough to walk on. Except for the section she'd prepa
