Predator Code (Tales from Wildhearth #1)

Chapter 04 - In the Sight of Golden Eyes

The night time streets of Wildhearth lacked the charm of their daytime counterparts. Although she was hardly a stranger to excursions after-dark, Jett couldn't shake the sense of apprehension that the quiet thoroughfare and bare flow of citizens instilled in her. Certain areas still swelled with life – those with bars or brawl pits where the districts citizens could congregate and blow off steam.

They weren't heading to one of those places, however. The warrenary in question was secluded off into what one could generously call the 'posh' part of Palharr. The hard-mud streets were more carefully maintained here, smoothed over with regular attention from city workers, and thick, symmetrical lines of trees shielded the buildings from prying eyes.

Jett's nose twitched with the scent of sap, mingled with incense coiling down from open windows. A rucksack bumped against her back, filled with a small assortment of tools and hacking shunts in case there were any locks that required her special touch. In truth, she had no idea what to expect. If this was all just paranoia and they found the felkin alive and well, she didn't really know what she wanted to say to him. Perhaps the knowledge that she could track him down so easily might galvanise him to speed things up and get her her money.

Tyr loped along beside her, his heavy jacket of cured barkhide concealing a bulky wrench he'd liberated from his repair yard. Neither of them had any real weapons – being obviously armed was an easy way to get yourself carted off to a lawhouse by the watchguards – but the heavy metal tool would be as deadly as a blade in his powerful paws. She could sense the tension in him as they walked; saw the constant flickering of his gaze. He was a stolid, hard-working foxkin and these shadowy games did not come naturally to him.

They passed a handful of other citykin out and about and ambling along comfortably despite the late hour, but none stopped to pay them more than a passing glance. Jett told herself that was probably for the best. She scented the air at regular intervals as she walked, instinctively on the lookout for anything that didn't belong, but so far nothing struck her as out of place. Just the usual night-time odours lingering on the air.

"How much further?" Tyr asked quietly, casting an uneasy glance back over his shoulder. "Should be round the corner at the end," she replied, glancing at the print-plate of the map she'd run off before the left her workshop. "It's got a little private side street. Very swish."

Conflicted feelings churned in her as she tried to decide whether she was angry with him or not. There had been no talking him out of accompanying her – once Tyr put his mind to something you'd have more luck stopping a tidal wave – but she didn't like the idea that he could be dragged into a situation with so many dangerous unknowns because of her.

In the end she kept any misgivings to herself. He was here, and she'd have been lying if she claimed not to feel reassured by his presence. The two foxkin carried on towards end of the street, moving as quietly and naturally as possible, keeping an eye out for anything untoward.

Jett felt her hackles rise and her tail curl with a quartet of slender figures emerged from around the bend ahead of them, right between them and their destination. For a moment she feared the worst, her mind flashing to the wolfkin, but as she examined the shapes those worries melted away. At least a little.

Too slim for wolves. As they stepped into the light Jett realised the four figures coming towards them were felkin, but these bore little resemblance to her employer. Two males swaggered along, clad in ragged kilts and sleeveless woven jackets that hung open, revealing scrawny chests and dark fur. With them a pair of scantly females prowled along, flimsy body-wraps and short, tight kilts accentuating slim waists and lithe limbs. One of them had a long waterfall of flame-red headfur cascading down her shoulders – the other had her dark locks coiled into an elaborate braid.