Clawed (Book Two of the Trails Series) {ON HOLD}

~Prologue~

When you first started reading about Sparrow and her wonderful group of friends, you were told that it always comes back to one thing.

Paw Prints.

And who were they made by?

Tiquail.

At the scene of a battle, where dried blood speckled the ground and clung to the grass, huge paw prints marked where the snow leopard had walked, carrying a young girl who should have been dead a long time ago.

This young girl, who had actually come back to life before, had just been stabbed by a silver dagger.

Yet, she was still breathing, somehow. And Tiquail had decided that she was quite worth saving.

Beside Tiquail's paw prints were two sets of footprints. These footprints were on opposite sides of the paw prints, indicating the place where a depressed mother and an apprehensive Trainer had walked.

The depressed mother, who's name was Marielle, had just stabbed the girl who was now lying on the snow leopard's back. She had caused a leak that was getting steadier and steadier as time went on. Her life was simply leaking out of her.

The apprehensive Trainer, who's name was Tony, was keeping his hand inside of his pocket, where he kept a spare dagger. He did not trust the mother, and he preferred to be prepared...just in case the situation arose...

Frankly, the mother did not trust the Trainer either. Of course, they each made their simple dislike of one another quite obvious. They didn't dare make a move, though, for fear of angering the massive snow leopard standing between them. Of course, the snow leopard could sense their hatred.

She chose not to say anything, though. She was well aware that neither of them possessed the virtue of trust.

Meanwhile, in the forest, a lion stumbled between the trees. His golden fur was now tinged red, and he was keeping weight off of his right front paw. He limped with his nose close to the ground, following the scent of his...leaders? Acquaintances? No one was quite sure.

For a while, the only sounds that could be heard were the gentle swishing of the leaves, ragged breathing, and the dragging noise the lion's paw made as he walked.

As the lion limped along, he noticed that his surroundings were becoming less and less familiar. He found this quite unnerving, for he knew the forest as well as his own voice...which he did like to hear quite a lot.

The only part of the forest he didn't know...but he refused to believe it. The Trackers were simply taking another route to the compound. There was no way...

That's when a horrible howl tore through the silence like a pair of claws.

The lion ran as fast as his injured paw would take him. He could smell blood before he even neared the body.

He skidded to a halt as he came across something that took his breath away. At that moment, his suspicions were proven.

A Doberman, huge, brown, and muscular, lay panting on the ground. An arrow was sticking out of her thin flank. She looked up at him with huge brown eyes.

The lion tried to neutralize his expression, but inside of him chaos reigned. The Trackers weren't just after the wild cats.

They were after the dogs too.

The Doberman let out a pitiful whimper. The lion looked down and sneered at her. "Not today, Ferago." He whispered, turning and running back the way he had come, trying to ignore the pain in his paw.

What the lion failed to notice was the arrow had a note wrapped around it.

And that note had been a simple instruction to him.

"Show them that we are coming for them next.

Show them her body."