Ravensblood Forest dauntless

Kovacs had barely set foot inside the bay itself. He was unaccustomed to living in such close proximity to the ocean, and the idea of willingly settling down in a rocky bowl with high cliffs on two sides and water on the third was not one that appealed. It was a tactician's nightmare, but Thistle and her mate didn't seem to think so. So he slept in Ravensblood Forest.

When he woke up, he wasn't alone. Kovacs blinked the sleep out of his dull eyes and remained still, watching the dark figure moving from his position on the forest floor. The seaside gusts did not reach this place, blocked by evergreen growth - the same foliage that shrouded him from view. She was hunting. He watched her sniff the forest floor, stare, creep - if she was after rabbits, all she need do was scare them into a frenzy; for whatever reason, the inhabitants of Ravensblood Forest were not smart.

Something tickled his nostrils. She was close now, this stranger, and in a rare fit of cruel humour he decided to allow the sneeze to come. Kovacs was not a wolf of dainty sneezes, and stupid though they were, the forest's prey was not deaf.