He smelled pungent smoke of burning herbs, too layered to parse into components. A thicker odor, dirty and hot, overlaid it. Some sort of animal, and more than one. Three, no four distinct scent trails, and below it all another scent. He took a whiff of it and recoiled. The scent was pure fear. It hit him deep in the gut, squeezing. He breathed in shallow quick breaths, trying to get a grip against the thought-killing primal panic.

Julie gasped. He turned. They’d come far enough to see around the corner of the larger wall. Beyond it, in a clearing, a circle smoldered on the ground, the scorched ground still smoking. Julie moved toward it before he could stop her. The revolting scent grew thicker. He followed, trying to shut down the terror snarling in his mind. The wall on their right ended, and Julie darted across the space. He cursed inwardly and followed.

She knelt by the circle, sheltered from view by the corner of the building. Charms and bundles of herbs hung from the bricks, each strung by a wet thread that smelled like flesh.

A wooden pole rose from the ground just outside the circle. Dead animals hung on it, each nailed to the wood with a long iron nail. A rat, a squirrel, a cat, and above them a wolf head smeared in fresh blood. Above the head, an arrow protruded from the wood. The arrowhead looked crude, almost ancient.

The wolf head stared at him with dead eyes, as if saying, “Hey buddy. Don’t fret. You and I are the same. There’s no pain where you’re going.”

Great. He had to bleed himself before the pain dragged him under or he started seeing things that weren’t there.

“He summoned something,” Julie whispered, her eyes wide. “He killed a wolf and summoned something very old.”

He pointed at the herbs. “Are those wolf guts?”

“Yes.”

A deep eerie howl rolled through the ruin. He jerked. Run! Run now! He had to go. Dogs were coming and they would run him to ground. He was in the open, exposed, but he could outrun them if only he ran now, fast and hard, into the woods. . . .

Julie grabbed his face with her fingers. “Look at me,” she whispered, her words urgent and fast. “Look at me!”

He pushed her hands away, but she put them back, her fingers cold on his skin. She caught his gaze. He stared into her brown irises.

“Derek! He summoned a hunter. The animals on the pole are your prey, and you are the hunter’s prey. This whole place is one giant magic trap, and it’s trying to make you act in your assigned role. The hunter will sic his hounds, the wolf will run, and the hunter will chase and kill it. It’s the way things were done for thousands of years, but you’re not all wolf.”