Page 6 of A World Enough

This was a lot like what she had been doing to make a living since she left her home pack in Ireland. She was a tracker, an investigator. That gave her the ability to live for her passion—painting.

She clambered up higher on the roof and still crouched, took in the air. Her head rolled back a few inches, and the scents in the air lit up her wolf olfactory system. The air was alive with the spices, herbs, fruit, and meat—not to mention, people—at that market.

Brogan had to filter out all these to try to find that one scent that had lit up her brain and shortened her breath when she first arrived. It was difficult. To be right next to the market, surrounded by a large concentration of people.

She shook her head in frustration. Why am I even doing this?

But what other choice did she have? Brogan had landed the Great Mother didn’t know where, and this woman appeared to know her way around these strange portals. She could be Brogan’s only way home.

Think. Where would I go?

The girl was obviously used to running, so she would have a few tricks up her sleeve. In the animal world they covered scent trails with other animals’ scents.

Being a market town, with no technology like they had on Earth, animals must be the transport. Horses, camels, something like that.

Brogan tried again, this time searching for the distinctive scent of barns or stables.

She caught a strong scent of animals. More than one or two. Brogan crept across the rooftops as quietly as she could.

The guards had drifted away, but she was in no doubt there would be more. It was strange, Brogan thought, that the guards had high-tech guns on a world that was pre-technology.

Brogan was nearing what she thought was a barn. She stopped and took in the air. The scent was multilayered on her wolf’s nose, and Brogan began to strip away the animal scents until something emerged. It was the scent of the woman.

She moved quickly to the barn, where there was a small window at the top of the roof. Brogan saw straw and saw animals, not too dissimilar to horses. They were double the size, but with much shorter faces, and instead of hooves, they had splayed out claws.

That is some animal, Brogan thought.

Brogan spotted something else—the woman’s leather satchel next to some big bales of hay.

Got you.

Brogan was feeling quite pleased with herself as she slipped through the window. She was on the top deck of the stable, focused on the bag and the big mound of hay that the ungrateful woman must be hiding under.

She jumped down and reached into the hay. Nothing but hay.

Just as she was thinking, I was tricked, a heavy blow hit her on the head from behind.

Brogan fell forward, shook her head to clear it, and scrambled to her feet. It was her. She made a grab at the woman, her wolf speed far greater than the woman expected, and she got hold of her tunic and pulled her in close.

“I just want to talk to you.”

She sighed. “Okay, GallowGlas.”

Brogan let go of her short tunic. “Okay, can—”

Just as she uttered those words, the woman jumped over her head. Brogan turned just in time to see her point her hand towards her satchel. A pair of handcuffs shot out of the bag, and clicked around Brogan’s wrists.

Brogan laughed. “You think these will hold me? I’m an alpha werewolf. I can rip these off in seconds.”

With an infuriating smirk on her face the woman said, “Take them off, then.”

Brogan pulled her wrists apart, and all she could do was jerk them. The cuffs never loosened.

She tried again and again, while her adversary laughed.

Being mocked by this woman was making her angrier and angrier. “What is going on?”

Her opponent swung the key around her finger. “Silver cuffs, Wolf.”