Kiran, a young wolf, and Siona the vixen follow strange tracks through the Tiger Forest, where animals have been vanishing. Their search leads them toward something watching from the reeds.
Night settled over the Tiger Forest like a lid, sealing in every sound and hiding whatever moved between the trunks. Kiran picked his way along the old deer paths, his silver fur dim in the moonlight, his ears tuned to every snap of twig and whisper of leaf. The forest had never felt friendly after dark, but lately it had felt wrong.
Animals had been disappearing for days. No torn fur, no blood, no warning. Only tracks that seemed to twist out of shape halfway through the soil, as if something had stepped there and then changed its mind about being seen.
At the great pine tree, where the moon bled through the branches in pale strips, Siona was already waiting. The vixen’s tail flicked once, sharply, and her eyes stayed fixed on the black line of reeds beyond the clearing. “I found something by the ponds,” she said in a low voice. “Tracks bigger than a wolf’s. Deeper than a bear’s. And the smell...” She drew in a careful breath, then wrinkled her nose. “Wet earth. Ash. Something else I couldn’t name.”
Kiran followed her gaze. The air seemed colder there, as if the mist itself had weight. They crossed the clearing together, paws silent on the damp ground, until the trees thinned and the ponds opened ahead of them like dark mirrors. The reeds shivered though there was no wind.
Then a shriek split the night from the thicket nearby. Siona went still beside him. Kiran turned, every muscle tightening, and in the reeds two pale eyes rose out of the mist and locked on them.