They came at dusk, and the valley announced them the way it announced weather.
Every beast on the far ridge lifted its head at once. The tree-cats went still on their branches. The river-drakes submerged to their nostrils. And out of the deep timber came a sound Yanshi had heard only twice in her life, a deep, layered chorus-howl, dozens of throats braided into one voice.
Xiaoyue's ears slammed flat.
"No," the wolfkin whispered, and her tail clamped down between her legs and stayed there. "No no no. Not them. Not now. Big sister, put out the fire, hide me, HIDE me in the meat shed, hurry, hurry, HURRY."
"What? Why? Who is it?"
"The pack. My, my old pack. The northern timber pack. Oh no, oh no, they smelled the change on me, they always said, they always said if the spirits ever made me strange they would come and..."
Too late.
