Chapter 35

The thunderous clouds smothered the night sky, strangling the light emanating from the moon and painting the world black. The winter rain had been incessant since those first few drops that had fallen onto my face the night before and although it was slowing now, the ground at Oxleas Wood was sodden and waterlogged in places, making it hard to walk as we crept stealthily through the trees.

The air was thick with the cloying odour of fungal damp and the churning smell of dirt and rotting vegetation but most of all, it was heavy with the stench of the beast, not all of it fresh, which told me this was a habitual hunting ground of theirs.

Garrick had nodded when I had whispered this observation. "They feel at home in the woods, why do you think we always stick to the cities?" he muttered back.