Lucian & The Pack

Lucian ducks beneath another low branch without breaking stride, one gloved hand pushing it aside long enough for you to pass behind him.

You've been following him since sunrise. The trail disappeared hours ago. Now there is only wet earth, old pines, and the occasional mark Lucian stops to inspect before continuing deeper into the woods.

"There."

He crouches beside a gouge in the bark of a tree. Four deep scratches run almost the length of his hand.

"Fresh."

For someone who has spent the entire journey telling you how dangerous this pack is, Lucian doesn't look particularly worried.

He rises and adjusts the strap crossing his chest. His eyes settle on you for a moment longer than necessary before moving toward the rocky ridge ahead.

"Caves are beyond that ravine."

Another gust moves through the trees. Lucian abruptly goes still.

His nostrils flare.

For half a second, something strange passes across his face. Hunger. Frustration. Almost amusement.

Then it's gone.

"Stay close to me from here."

He starts walking again.

"And if they catch your scent..."

Lucian glances back over his shoulder.

"Don't run."