"What is it?" Kera whispered.

"Smell that?"

She sniffed the air. Death, decay and that other wrong smell distinct of shadow wolves.

"Shadow wolves," she said.

"Close."

They moved carefully through the trees. Dante's eyes scanned for movement.

The smell got stronger. More wrong with each step.

Then they saw them.

Five shadow wolves feeding on a deer. Their black bodies absorbed the moonlight.

"Stragglers," Dante whispered. "Left behind from the village attack."

"We should go around."

"No." Dante drew his sword. "I need to kill something."

"Dante, wait—"

But he was already moving. His sword caught the first shadow wolf in the neck.

The creature's head rolled away. Black...