Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 98: Caine: The Kids

CAINE

Something about these children sets my senses on edge.

I watch the kid closely as he speaks about the small sleeping forms in the alcove. His body language shifts constantly—defensive, protective, cautious. But it’s not his movements that catch my attention. It’s his scent.

A strange undertone clings to him. Sweet. Fruity. Similar to overripe strawberries, but not quite the same. It’s subtle beneath his normal teenage smell—sweat, hormones, and a hint of animal musk.

At first whiff, he smells like a wolf.

I take a deeper breath, letting my senses expand through the cave. The little one, Bun—she smells like prey at her baseline. Rabbit.

But different as they are, they all share the same signature of scent. Strangely, almost synthetically fruity.

Owen doesn’t carry it at all; he smells of summer and wind and something cleaner. Not human, though. Something else is there, but it’s not like theirs.

"What kind of danger surrounds these kids?" I keep my voice low, even though I already know Grace is around the corner, listening. She probably thinks she’s being quiet, but I can hear every shallow breath and the faint brush of her clothes against the wall. "Why is Owen the one saving them?"

He doesn’t answer right away, looking instead toward the sleeping children. Then he rubs at his head with a long sigh, pulling at a few strands as he thinks my question over.

"There’s something rotting in the bones of this place," he finally says. "But it’s not just here. Packs have been weakening for decades. Even prey shifters are struggling."

His jaw tightens as he meets my eye. "More kids like us are being born. Owen tries to get them out when he can, but he fails more than he succeeds."

I’ve observed unrest among the packs, but it’s always attributed to politics. Natural power struggles. Nothing like this.

"What’s an aberrant?"

too much. Built to survive what’s coming. But we don’t shift right, so our packs don’t

This is something ancient and invisible working under the

King has never heard of this.

never hear about kids who die mysteriously? The weak ones. The sick ones. The ones nobody

I go quiet.

illness, or accidents. Even unexplained causes. Troubling

never brought

have formed a more sinister

else have

of any pack,

shoulders. Young still, but growing fast. In another year, he’ll look nothing like he does now. But he’s still a child at heart, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheek twitching with the force of

a jerky little movement of his head. But it’s enough to

push this kid much further. But he knows more, and I need to know everything if I want to keep them all

response drops between us like a heavy stone. His words are so simple,

"Because she’s like us."

collides with

voice comes out hard, a little

instead. "Aberrants

the pack link

to

my face, and the kid watches intently. I force my expression into impassivity; an adult

Well... sometimes.

not one

came around and killed them all in some sick magic ritual. Fiddleback is fucked, Caine. Rotten from the ground up.

to force the link wider, bringing