Apphia

I feel him—deep within me. It is him_ the seeker. He doesn't wear a cloak. The seeker is of average height, with very short hair and dark eyes that glint red. He approaches but stops, smiling like a cat and displaying his sharp fangs. He looks back at his escort. His entourage are all old and strong, yet their bodies are those of men no older than fifty.

"The marked wolf with divine powers," his voice is like a sharp knife through me, yet it is low. "You've come to me," 

'Where are you,' Nicholas mind-links me.

 Before I can respond to him, I feel a forced shield between...