Chapter 190

The wolf padded softly, stealthily through the woods. Every step was a testament to its lithe, agile form, every tilt of its head gathered the smallest of sounds into its waiting ears; every sniff of the air detected even the faintest of scents. It was a creature of instinct and sensory power and never more at home than when it felt the sick squelch of mud under its feet and the thick overcoat of forest enshrouding it. Here, it was King and it disturbed me to see the usually bumbling, clumsy Philippe Charmonde, still in human form, but seemingly more at ease in these surroundings than he was in the city, when I had always thought him to be a real city boy. Philippe was that guy that knew all the short-cuts through the urban sprawl of London town. He'd veer off down alleys and roads you never knew existed. He'd take a detour on a whim, just so he could explore more uninvestigated nooks and crannies. He'd always seemed so in tune with the hum of city life, fitting in seamlessly no matter