"Zeke." Kraath's voice cracked like a whip. "Stand down. Now. If I have to tell you again about assaulting people, even draanth-heads like him, I will throw you off this flyer personally. Understand?"
It took every ounce of control Zeke possessed to release the feral and step back. He forced his claws to retract, his hands shaking. "Understood."
The feral grinned as he rubbed his throat with one hand. "Name's Raaze, by the way."
"I don't give a draanth what your name is," Zeke growled back.
Kraath looked between them, his expression hard and unamused. "Behave, both of you. Zeke, Raaze is the best tracker we have available right now. Like it or not, we need him if we're going to find Michelle before her captors decide she's more trouble than she's worth."
The unfinished threat hung in the air... Before they killed her. Before they did worse...
"Fine." Zeke forced himself to sit back down. "But if she's hurt because we've wasted time?—"
"She won't be," Kraath cut him off. "We'll find her. Look, we're nearly there."
The flyer banked sharply, and through the small porthole, the secondary construction site sprawled across the rocky plateau below, its equipment scattered like abandoned toys.
"The storm's moving in faster than predicted," the pilot called back. "You've got around five hours before it hits."
Kraath cursed under his breath. "How long to track them down?"
Raaze examined his fingernails. "With their head start, it depends on the trail. If they left a clear path, could be a couple of hours. If they were smart about it..." He shrugged. "Could take longer."
The flyer touched down with a bone-jarring thud and Zeke was moving before the landing skids had fully settled. Slamming the release on the side door, he dropped to the rocky ground below.
He hit the ground running, his nose already working to sort the tangle of scents around him. Michelle's floral sweetness cut through the diesel stink and metal dust like a knife. But underneath that familiar comfort was a sharp, metallic tang that made his chest tighten—Terror.
Michelle had been afraid. Really afraid.
He quartered the area methodically, following the scent trail away from the equipment clusters toward the eastern edge of the site. He spotted a heavy drill abandoned near a concrete barrier, its bit stained with rust-brown blood that drew a satisfied growl from his throat.
"She got him," he said, crouching beside the weapon. The blood was definitely feral. It was the wrong smell and color to be human. "Hit the draanthic hard enough to make him bleed."
Raaze wandered over, hands shoved in his pockets like he was touring a museum. "Yeah, but a trall-load of good it did her, eh?"
3
Before Zeke could even think about snarling a response, Raaze crouched beside him and studied the ground. His expression was focused as he leaned forward to trace patterns in the dirt.
Frowning, Zeke leaned in as well. What had he missed?
"A male carried her," Raaze said, his voice sharp now. "Over his shoulder, by the look of it. She really did hurt him with that drill, though." He pointed to a more disturbed area of dirt a few feet away. "Here... See how the stride pattern changes? He had to adjust his grip to compensate for her weight. She's tiny, so he would only have to do that if she'd injured him."
Zeke blinked in surprise. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Draanth, the asshole was right. Raaze might be an arrogant bastard, but yeah… he knew how to track. Zeke had missed those tiny signs.
"Trail heads north," Raaze said, standing and brushing dirt from his hands. "Into the foothills. He wasn't trying to hide his path."
"Confident draanthic," Kraath said, joining them. Lines deepened around the garrison commander's mouth as he studied the horizon where rocky outcroppings rose like jagged teeth from the forest. "Or wanting to reach safe territory quickly."
The hairs on Zeke’s arms rose at Kraath's tone.
"Why? What’s up there?"
"Rough country. Lots of caves and hidden valleys." Kraath folded his arms over his broad chest, his eyes narrowing as he studied the foothills in the north. "It used to be empty territory, but the mountain packs have been moving down recently."
"Mountain packs?" Raaze asked with a frown.
"Ferals so far gone they barely remember they were once civilized," Kraath replied. "They claim territory. Mark it. Defend it. Kill anything that intrudes." His gaze slid sideways to them. "With Banic gone, there's no one to keep them in line anymore."
