LUCAS
For Ryder's scent to be so crisp, he should be in range for a pack link.
And yet there's nothing when I try.
More evidence it's a trap.
We follow the original trail. There's always a chance I'm wrong, and it's really Ryder. If it is, though, he's in a better situation than Jericho to survive.
Choices. It always comes down to choosing. The hardest part of leadership.
My pack falls into line without question as we continue our pursuit of the attackers.
The original trail weaves between snow-covered pines. The tracks continue to lessen, until it seems as if only one of them remains, but each step is heavy in the snow. Jericho's drag marks persist, but at intervals, as if he's carried at some times and pulled along at others.
But then, after another mile of tracking, it all stops.
Vester circles the area where the trail ends, agitation swishing his tail. There's nothing. Not even a lingering scent.
