Redsand Canyon Black house will rock, blind boys don't lie

Ever since the move—or perhaps the meeting which had preceded it—there had been something strange about Mereo’s energy. Atreus remained loyal to the Imperator and his comrades, though as winter wore on, he spent less and less time in the canyon.

Today, he hunted the slopes of Shadow Mountain. Atreus had no intention of going for one of the mountain goats he tracked, though he figured it was still a constructive use of his time. Maybe if he actually spotted the herd, he could report back and return with reinforcements.

But they proved elusive in the mist and, anyway, someone was calling for him. Atreus straightened up from his crouching prowl and squinted toward the canyon. He didn’t recognize the voice. After a moment’s hesitation, he clicked his tongue and trotted back toward Mereo’s nullah.

From above, he spotted a strapping stranger waiting near the southernmost fringe. Atreus paused again, then proceeded, studying the other wolf as he made a cautious approach. He definitely didn’t know this guy, so why was he calling for Atreus by name? His blood ran cold as he wondered if he might have come from the rise.

Uh, Atreus said, an edge to his voice, can I help you…?