Argus hung back, keeping his siblings within sight through the mist and fog, doing little to close the gap between them. Who cared if he fell behind or even found himself alone in unfamiliar forest? Argus would welcome some new territory to explore. What challenges awaited him beyond the town of Redstone? Strange beasts, perhaps ready to be hunted and felled, torn apart by talons and teeth, their blood rich and red and tasting like…

Argus did his best to concentrate on the pack and what had become a boring run through the forest. It wasn’t a good idea to dwell on such things as making meals of the other animals in the woods. Too much thought on the subject, a single taste of fresh hot blood, and he’d develop a liking for it. Then, almost like a drug addict, he’d want more and more, never satisfied until the bloodlust overtook him, or he was finished off by another beast that was bigger, stronger, or smarter than he was. There were countless animals that he could kill, and only a few that might be able to kill him, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. If he preyed on the smaller animals, the bigger ones would find him, of that he had no doubt.

Argus raised his head and looked up the trail for the other members of the pack. He could see the branches and grass along the sides of the trail moving slightly to denote their passing, but other than that there were no signs of his siblings anywhere. He slowed and bent to sniff the ground. Their scent was fresh, and the flicking and bending of the blades of grass told Argus that they were no more than a few seconds ahead.

He slowed yet again, allowing himself to fall even farther behind. Argus preferred to be alone more often of late. He wasn’t sure why, but there was a feeling within him—almost a certainty—that he would be leaving the pack before long.

Just then, the hair along the back of Argus’s head stood up. There was something on the trail ahead that wasn’t a member of the pack. He sensed something about the presence that made him wary.

Argus stopped in his tracks, moving off the trail and finding cover behind a stout redwood that would conceal his position no matter which form he was in. And then he waited. He couldn’t see anything through the mist or between the trees, but there was something there, he was sure of it. He could hear it rustling through the brush and padding lightly over the humus. It was a faint sound like that of a small deer, or perhaps even a dog leading a hunter. The thought of a hunter on the pack’s trail caused Argus’s fur to bristle with fury.