His wolf threw its head back and howled.
The sound tore across miles of dark forest and kept going.
And somewhere in the trees ahead, something heard it.
The Iron Fang rogues didn't need much to decide something was worth investigating.
Blood. Magic. The sound of a wolf that had lost its mind somewhere between here and whatever had happened to it. They moved through the trees quietly, the way things move when they've spent years learning how to be patient about violence.
One of them caught the scent first and went still.
"That's not normal."
Another crouched lower, nose working the air. "He's injured."
They moved closer through the canopy until they saw him, an enormous wolf crashing through the undergrowth like the trees were obstacles and not warnings, unbalanced, burning, completely alone.
The rogue leader watched him for a moment.
Then he bared his teeth.
"Take him."
The first one came out of the dark fast.
