The forest seemed to stretch endlessly, the oppressive quiet broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot. The group moved carefully, their senses heightened with every step. Misery’s silver eyes darted from shadow to shadow, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
Then, without warning, Eryon stopped in his tracks. His nostrils flared as he took in a sharp breath, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. “Wait,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Lyra and Misery froze, their eyes snapping to him. “What is it?” Lyra asked, her voice hushed but urgent.
Eryon didn’t answer immediately. He inhaled deeply again, his amber eyes narrowing as a spark of recognition flickered in their depths. “It’s faint,” he said slowly, his tone tight with emotion. “But it’s her. I can smell her.”
Misery’s heart leapt in her chest, her breath catching. “You’re sure?” she asked, stepping closer.
Eryon nodded, his gaze fixed on a spot ahead of them. “I’d know her scent anywhere. She was here.”
Lyra crouched low, scanning the ground for any sign of disturbance. “How long ago?” she asked.
Eryon knelt beside her, brushing his fingers over the dirt. “Days,” he murmured. “Maybe a week or more. It’s old, but it’s hers.”
Misery’s silver eyes darted across the surrounding trees, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and dread. “If she was here, then where did they take her?”
Eryon straightened, his jaw tightening.
“Deeper into their territory. If the Crescent Howl pack has her, they wouldn’t have let her go. They’d keep her close to the heart of their land.”
Misery’s grip on her blade tightened, her knuckles white.
“Then that’s where we’re going,” she said firmly. “We’ll find her, no matter what it takes.”
Eryon glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “We need to be careful, Misery. If she’s alive, they won’t give her up without a fight. And if they think we’re here to take her—”
“They’ll regret it,” Misery interrupted, her voice cold as steel. “I’ve waited too long to find her. I won’t lose her again.”
Lyra stood, brushing the dirt from her hands. “Then we move now. If her scent is here, it means we’re close.”
The group pressed forward, their movements quicker but no less cautious. The faint trail of the child’s scent was like a lifeline, pulling them deeper into enemy territory. Eryon and Misery felt a flicker of hope. Their daughter was close—and they would stop at nothing to bring her home.