I arrived at the path to the cave an hour before dawn, tearing through the bushes in my wolf form.

The power surge was intoxicating, and the pace was thrilling.

I had no doubt that I would locate the child's trail here, traversing the small opening on the route to the mountain.

But the smell stopped me cold as soon as I struck the canyon floor.

I promptly moved back.

The smell of dried, cold blood, Miran's blood, permeated the air.

It was easy to read the scene.

Jarrus's lifeless body ...