The embankment was steep and the trees were so densely packed together that the harsh midsummer sun struggled to shine through. It felt like autumn was already in the air and the unseen eyes of the Wælgeuga were already locked onto the back of his neck as he tried to walk the gravel road as quietly as possible.
He could hear them walking alongside him, ducking behind trees whenever they thought he'd seen them and trying to get close enough to strike before the forest ended and the cattle fields began. Every step was placed with care appearing to be casual but cautious, deliberate but not overly so. Enough to be noticed by some but not enough to draw the whole pack down.
Occasionally he caught sight of a clawed arm reaching through the underbrush and gently staggered away, still desperately trying to maintain an air of ignorance. The entire time he thought he was succeeding, thought they didn't know that he knew where they were and that they'd woken up earlier than usual.
As jagged teeth sunk into his ankle and ripped him off his feet he realised they'd always been a distraction.
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