A muscle worked in Kraath’s jaw. “Ferals can be cunning when they need to be. Pack hunting requires coordination.”
“This isn’t hunting,” he replied, facing the commander. “This is travel.”
The silence between them stretched. Kraath’s stare studied him with an intensity that made him feel like he was being dissected. When the commander finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled.
“You’re reading too much into a partial sign. Storm damage creates false patterns.”
And you’re working awfully hard to discredit what we’re seeing.
He shrugged and followed the trail into the valley, his tracking instincts completely engaged now. There were signs of temporary camps, evidence of tool use, patterns that suggested organized behavior rather than the chaotic violence typically associated with blood rage.
So we’ve got mystery ferals who don’t exist, moving like they’re on a mission through country they know better than we do. This just keeps getting better.
The tracks led toward a narrow canyon that cut through the mountain range. As they approached the entrance, more signs became visible… disturbed vegetation, the faint marks where the group had passed through the bottleneck. The rock walls would provide excellent cover, but also create a perfect trap if things went wrong.
“Trail heads into the canyon,” he said, studying the entrance.
Kraath nodded, but something in his expression suggested he wasn’t surprised by this development. “Terrain funneling. Limited routes through this section of the mountains.”
They stood at the mouth of the canyon. The walls rose steeply on both sides, creating a natural corridor that would be perfect for an ambush but also offered the fastest route.
“We follow the trail,” Kraath decided. “But stay alert. If there are ferals in this area, we’re walking into their territory.”
Their territory. Interesting way to put it. Almost like you know exactly whose territory this is.
The canyon walls rose around them, casting long shadows despite the morning sun. Kraath moved with the careful alertness of someone who expected trouble, his gaze constantly scanning ahead. But there was something else in his posture—a familiarity with this place that said he’d been here before.
How many times has our fearless leader taken this particular scenic route?
The evidence was clear, even if the commander wanted to ignore it. Female ferals existed, they were organized, and they knew this country like they owned it.
Time to see just how deep this particular rabbit hole went.
Chapter 7
Zeke should have been exhausted. Should have collapsed hours ago from blood loss, hypothermia, and the sheer physical drain of tracking Michelle through a blizzard. Instead, he felt wired. Alert. The Legion presence in his veins hummed with satisfaction, feeding him energy he shouldn’t have had.
Draanthing thing was getting stronger.
He looked over at the bed. Michelle's fever had broken before dawn, leaving her skin cool to the touch and her breathing deep and steady. He was pleased to see that the infection was retreating... the angry red streaks on her leg fading to pale pink. He’d still monitored every breath and every flutter of her eyelids, waiting for signs the fever might return. But she’d slept since the herbs took hold, her body finally healing instead of fighting.
And he’d watched over her like some kind of predator guarding its prey.
No, not prey… mate.
The Legion purred approval at the thought, sending heat through his system that had nothing to do with the dying fire.
She stirred, her hand sliding across the furs as she stretched. A soft sound escaped her lips, half sigh, half yawn, and her eyes fluttered open. Those brown eyes were clear now, no trace of fever’s glassy confusion. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks as she blinked away sleep, and his heart lurched sideways.
She looked warm and rumpled, dark hair spilling across the furs. When she offered him a sleepy smile, every rational thought in his head evaporated.
Too beautiful. Too delicate for a monster like him.
Mine.
She pushed herself up on her elbow, muscles moving under soft skin. Then she froze as the furs slipped down her body, revealing the swell of her breasts. Heat burned red banners onto her cheeks, and she grabbed the covers, pulling them up to her chin.
“I, um...” Her voice was rough with sleep, the husky tone making something primal stir within him. “My clothes?”
