Brodin’s hands curled. “She’s hiding somewhere. I want teams up in flyers. Scan the hills. Search in a perimeter around the city. She’s not too close, but she’s not too far, either.”
No, the warlord would be close enough to be able to torment Brodin, but far enough away to avoid detection.
Zavir didn’t know his sons at all. He didn’t understand them. Threatening their people was the quickest way to push them away, not draw them closer.
Annora nodded. “I’ll get Gerrant on it.”
The man was one of the best pilots.
The front door of Brodin’s home burst open. Cassanra stood in the doorway. The older woman was puffing.
Brodin straightened, his pulse jumping.
Poppy.
“She’s gone,” Cassanra wheezed.
“What?” Brodin growled.
“Poppy’s gone. She was unconscious, and there had been no change. I was in the next room tending Derald’s daughter. She fell off a roof and broke her leg.”
Derald’s daughter was a typical Damari teenager—driven to push boundaries, and with no fear.
“When I returned, Poppy’s bed was empty, and the door was open.”
Brodin flexed his hand. “She walked out?”
Cassanra nodded. “I checked security. She looked dazed, confused. She wandered toward the main market.” The healer shrugged hopelessly. “We tried to track her, but there were too many scents. I’ve issued alerts, but no one has seen her.”
“Any sign that she changed into a wolf?” he asked.
With a shake of her head, Cassanra plucked at her shirt. “No. She definitely has Damari in her now, but due to her different genetic makeup, she hasn’t transformed in the usual way. There is no sign of her taking on a wolf form.”
She’d still go into the forest. Brodin’s gut clenched. She’d be running on instinct and her new Damari blood would drive her to feel the wild around her, whether she took wolf form or not.
If Candela found her…
He burst into movement, grabbed his axe, and headed for the door. “Tolf, get Jarvald and Gwenna.” They were the other best trackers among the cleavers. He strapped his axe to his back. “And alert the patrols around the safe zone to keep an eye out for her. Annora, get those flyers in the air. Their main priority is finding Candela, but also to stay alert for Poppy.”
His First Claw nodded.
Outside his house, Brodin broke into a jog. He was conscious of Tolf one step behind him.
They took the twists and turns of the path under the willoris trees, whose huge limbs spread out in a wide canopy. As they passed several cabins, young Damari children called out and waved. Brodin made himself wave back.
“Get the others,” he told Tolf. “I’ll meet you at the market.”
With a nod, the cleaver jogged away.
After a quick stop at the infirmary to grab a blanket laden with Poppy’s scent, he met Tolf, Jarvald, and Gwenna near the market. Here, more Damari—most dressed in leather pants and soft, loose shirts—went about their business. There was a faint tension in the air, and people were more watchful. Everyone knew Candela was on planet.
Brodin noted several cleavers on patrol, moving through the foot traffic. He turned to Tolf and the others. “I know you’re tired from searching for Fillian, but Poppy can’t have gone far. She’s hurt and weak.”
His trackers nodded. Jarvald was middle-aged, grizzled, and kept his head shaved. Gwenna was younger, but no less skilled. Her blonde hair was in a long braid. Both wore the typical leather armor of the cleavers like Brodin and Tolf did. The etched leather had unique designs carved into it, and it was treated with enhancements to make it almost as tough as metal but more flexible. Touches of damar-wolf fur decorated the waist and wrists, in honor of their ancestors.
Brodin’s leather had quite a few battle scars, but cleavers wore their armor with pride. Brodin and his cleavers policed the Damari and protected them. Accalia was the capital city, but there were other cities spread across Damar, run by people Brodin trusted. Every now and then, he had to travel to help repel off-planet invaders, or fight rogue groups of Damari who decided to cause trouble and break the laws.
The worst was when he had to hunt down a rabha—a Damari who lost themselves to the wild. Who let the worst of their animal instincts free and hunted other Damari.
One rabha could tear through a town and cause a massacre.
He blew out a breath. Someone turning rabha didn’t happen all the time, but more often than he liked. Executing his own people was a task he hated. Damari legend said that the only thing that could bring a rabha back from the brink was a runa.
And they hadn’t had a runa born in centuries.
Brodin shook his head and held out the blanket. All three trackers sniffed it.
“Let’s go.”
They moved toward the market. Along the path, Brodin caught Poppy’s scent—light, tantalizing. A touch of Damari, but different.
But it was faint, and overlaid with so many other scents. The others fanned out.
“Can you track her?” he asked Jarvald.
The tracker shook his head.
Gorr. Poppy was his to care for. Brodin hated the thought she might get hurt.
His projecta-band vibrated and he touched it. A blue projection speared up in front of him. He had a message from Annora.
He read it and cursed.
“Some teenagers came back from the safe zone. Said something hunted them, but they didn’t get a good look at it. The boy, Aamir, hit his head. He does remember a small, blonde woman jumped in front of him and told him to run.”
Brodin fought back a growl. Poppy. Stupid, reckless Poppy. Rhain had warned him that women from Earth were tough, courageous, and often difficult to understand.
“The patrols said something set off the sensors,” he added, closing the projection.
“Some creature belonging to Candela crept in, hoping to find a new victim,” Tolf muttered.
They had to find Poppy.
Brodin crouched and touched the ground.
There. He picked up her scent.
He rose. He had a faint trace and followed it.
They hadn’t gone far before the trail turned off the path and into the trees. He cursed.
“I’ve got it,” Jarvald said.
“Me too,” Gwenna said.
Tolf nodded.
“Spread out,” Brodin ordered. “Find her.”
They moved through the trees in the safe zone. This was second nature to him. It was what Damari liked best. His senses expanded and he heard the birds, insects, animals.
Now, he just had to find one small woman from Earth.
“There are fresh scents here,” Gwenna called out. “The teenagers.”
A sharp whistle from the left.
“Someone was sick here,” Tolf said, voice low and gritty.
Brodin’s jaw worked. Was Poppy sick? What if she’d been injured?
“I’ll follow the main path,” he said. “The rest of you, fan out.”
His people moved, left and right, until the trees swallowed them.
Brodin went to continue, but hesitated.
He scanned around and scented the teenagers. There was also the fading scent of something else. He wrinkled his nose. Something harsh and wrong.
But he stayed keyed on Poppy’s tantalizing scent, and moved toward a tree. He noticed the marks on the trunk. He touched them. Puncture marks from claws. He looked up and spotted a strand of blonde hair caught on the rough bark.