“We are nearly at the site, Herr Monier. We are fortunate that it was cold last night. The carcasses have apparently been here for several days. The smell isn’t nearly as bad as it could be.” Antoine stepped over a log hidden under the melting slush and stopped just short of a clearing. He could see uniformed officers and even a few members of … the harbor patrol?—taking photographs and measurements under the towering beech trees outside of Stuttgart, Germany. The sun was about to crest the top of the nearest peak, but the shadow of the full moon still lingered on the opposite horizon. The gentle, sultry pull reached for the animal under his skin. His senses were still intensified by the invisible magic that played over his body. At any other time, the forest scents would be too intense for him to remain near prey long. But the death smell of fellow predators that permeated the valley stilled his natural urges. The uniformed officer behind, with the weighty tang of his blood sausage and porridge breakfast still hovering on his breath, couldn’t smell the log under the snow as Antoine had.
