Harlan looked ahead a moment, then leaped forward, bounding down the trail several meters before coming to a halt over a bloody patch in the snow.

The others came up behind him, and it didn’t take long before they were all standing around the remains of one of Ernie Ilson’s rabbits.

Harlan was the first to change his shape so he could speak. “It was wolves,” he said. “The same ones that were stalking Angelina Abruzzo.”

Noble looked at the dark spot on the snow. The rabbit had been ravaged by several wolves at once, judging by the state of what was left.

“They were hungry,” said Argus, explaining the wolves’ frenzy. “They did what they had to do to survive.”

But Noble couldn’t help feel there was something more to this. Sure, the winter had been a cold one and sources of food were hard to come by, but these wolves were expert hunters and should have been able to find food in the forest, especially now that they were being led by a werewolf. But even if the wolves were simply desperate for food, the people of Redstone wouldn’t see it that way. They would look upon this as trespassing, or worse, an outright attack against a man’s home and property.

And that man wouldn’t take it lightly. He would fight back and get others to help him. Man versus nature. And neither side would win.

Noble let out a sigh.

Harlan suddenly rose up, sniffing the air as a light breeze blew up the mountain.

“What is it?” Noble asked.

“Something bigger,” Harlan said, gesturing down the mountain.

Noble looked below and recognized the outline of Mr. Ilson’s cabin through the trees. The place was dark and Noble figured the old man had probably gone to bed.

Suddenly Harlan was on the move, heading down the mountain. He was making a beeline for the house, tracking a scent along the way. Finally, he stopped at the edge of the forest, about ten meters from Mr. Ilson’s back porch.

Noble and the others came up behind Harlan, content to look over his shoulder at what lay on the ground at his feet.

Mr. Ilson’s dog.

There were four bloody slashes across its throat, and it had been partially eaten. The werewolf had killed it with a single swipe of its massive talons. In just a few short days, the wild wolf pack’s alpha male had recovered from its fight with Argus, transformed itself into a werewolf, and became an efficient and deadly killer.

What’s happened? Noble thought. What have we done?