OVER TWENTY YEARS AGO

[ALARIC]

The Siberian wind didn't just blow; it screamed, whipping a wall of white across the landscape until the world was nothing but static. I could barely see my own boots, let alone memory-track a scent that was fading with every snowflake.

The snow didn't just fall that night; it hung. It was a white barrier that had been closing in on me for eight months, ever since I lost Lana to the feral madness. I had been searching until my paws were raw and my scent-sense ...