Levent Kartal had a direction to go in now. His finger pads were pricked by thistles, his senses filled with the salty stench of the sea. But he turned his back on the bay and headed north toward the land bridge, wondering if there were any treasures he could find on the other side where fewer wolves seemed to frequent. Some gifts would be useful when he approached the pack or any packs, and he did want to make another round around the region so that he knew exactly where he stood. He was a master of games, and he would not lose for want of trinkets to please an alpha’s greed.
He walked across a carpet of pine needles, chewing on a strip of rabbit meat, occasionally lifting a morsel to the cat perched on his shoulder. It was quiet here, at least, and so he could be at peace without needing to don his fool’s mask. Occasionally, he’d break the quiet to share a few words with Wilson, talking about where they might go, what they might do, when they would return. The tom was resigned to his companion’s constant journeying, although Lev knew he wanted nothing more than to return across the sea to their homeland, or perhaps to just live in a cabin in the woods for the rest of their lives. Wilson never had any sort of ambition.
Sighing, the Turkish man stopped to check the contents of his satchel, his fingers brushing over the books and necklaces and other items within. Truly, he needed a horse to carry all his things, but he doubted he could care for a horse properly without having a pack to shelter them. Well-versed in the low languages he might be, but that didn’t make him an expert on all things equine.
He was snapped from his lazy thoughts by the sickening crack of bone—or more than just a single bone. The pops and splintering of vertebrae made him cringe, his fur fluffed along his back, and Wilson dug his claws into his companion’s shoulder. The wolf mewed softly at him to calm him, petting his fur, and stepped softly in the direction of the sound rather than away as another might have.
The cat did not approve.
Levent flashed him grin that was not very soothing.
The sight of a butchered carcass greeted them as they stepped from the foliage. A black luperci wielded a blade, severing the meat, until the sound of a bird flapping through the tree canopy made him turn his head. When he turned again, in the direction of the newcomers, Levent made no move to hide or step forward. He simply stood, blue eyes roaming over the stag’s antlers, his white cat’s eyes big as yellow moons.
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