The moon was a thin sliver in the ink-black sky, offering little light as Xaden sat by the fire, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes.
He had his men had decided that it was time for them to make camp after traveling non stop for hours.
He cleaned his sword absent mindedly as he thought of Jasmine and their unborn baby.
He had hated to see how she looked at him when it was time for him to leave.
Like she felt something was wrong.
He shook his head off it.
He wanted to talk to Erik about it and then relieved Erik was not with him but rather back home in the pack.
So Xaden sighed and sat back down.
His men who had accompanied him sat in a loose circle around the fire, they were laughing together and discussing their days and times they had had together.
Then they felt a chill and they went quiet.
The night was too quiet. No distant howls, no rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. It was unnatural.
