What Irene deemed to be tracks headed towards the Duke's Tower stopped abruptly and she miserably stood there, realizing the trail had gone cold. All that was between her and the grass and snow much closer to the old castle was mud.
Since the snow was actively melting, there was nothing more to be gleaned from the situation. Unless, of course, there were somehow tracks of mud going into the castle.
"The trail's gone dead," Irene uttered, knowing there was someone behind her.
She turned to see Sir Gunnar standing there with his eyebrows lowered as he took in the situation that had befallen them.
"It doesn't make any sense," he muttered in disbelief. "Perhaps we're all reading into this too much. None of the knights would allow someone to come inside the tower if they were covered in anything close to the scent of what we witnessed in the forest."
Sir Sven had since caught up and he added his own theories.
