Fat, fluffy flakes were falling on the forest, landing softly on the already laid blanket of crystals spread out like a soft feather down comforter. It was way too quiet. Hayden could hear his heart beating in his ears, pounding and fluttering with excitement. The winter had taken hold of Wicked Grove and its surrounding areas, threatening to cover every living thing with snow.

“Hayden, take up the rear,” Annika said. “We’re going to move in a single file around the base of the hills up ahead. Our scouts found tracks there. If we don’t find anything else, we’ll set up camp for the night. Just got intel we might face a storm front. Might.”

That wasn’t what Hayden wanted to hear.

Annika was strong, with sharp, oily doe eyes that didn’t match her pale hair. Her skin shone white in the moonlight, with a hint of pale blue from the cold, but her lips were an angry red. A flush of pink graced the tip of her nose and the ridges of her chiseled cheekbones.

Hayden threw her a quick nod then snapped his eyes back to the woods, feeling the chill of the weather creep through his clothes and send a rush of gooseflesh along his skin.

The storm front was coming. They shouldn’t be here.

But aside from the storm, something else wasn’t right. He felt like they were being watched, not by just one pair of eyes but many. The thought sent a vibrating shudder down his spine that he could not shake. He’d been on many missions like this, but none of them had ever given him such a feeling of dread. The scenery was too fresh, too pristine. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but everything about it felt wrong.

Hayden fell back and let the group pass him. Their white and gray winter camo was a far cry from the usual black and green pattern they wore during the non-winter months. It made everything bright, even in the darkness. He pulled his shades down over his eyes to cut out the blinding moonlight reflecting off the snow and irritating his retinas. Good thing his night vision was excellent.

He heard an echo of a scream or howl behind him and turned. No one else appeared to notice the sound, as though the single, long, resonating wail riding the wind was meant just for him. Cocking his head to one side, he listened hard as his group pulled away ahead of him before turning to slip back into formation. He kept his eyes wide open, flicking them from tree to tree to tree but finding nothing. He could barely hear anything above the crunch of snow as the soldiers made their way through the drifts.

Something or someone was out there. Whatever it was, it knew they were here.

They were sitting ducks; did Annika not know this? He had never questioned her authority before and bit his lip to restrain himself. He had to get a grip. She was smart woman and had been through almost as many assignments with the Agency as Hayden. But she looked much too at ease with the environment. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was starting to lose his nerve after so many missions exterminating rogue bands of faeries, trolls, goblins, and others who had no regard for the human city lying within their midst. He hoped he was just on edge and nothing would come of it.

Or he had already lost his nerve. Fuck.

This time around they were deep in the forest, much farther out than usual. On most occasions, the Agency was just called to minor infractions by the magicals surrounding the city. In the supernatural community, those who were threatening to expose themselves or their kind, or harm the humans in any way, were immediately marked for extermination. No questions asked.

Hayden wiped at his shades then removed them and blinked hard against the relentless snow assaulting his watering eyes. The neck of his jacket clung to him, sweat matting the hairs on his neck and freezing over two seconds later. His ski hat kept his head warm, but his fingers could already feel the bite of the cold seeping through the thick military-issue gloves. This was the part of the job Hayden hated the most: searching for rogue groups of supernaturals in the dead of winter. He knew it was required, but that didn’t mean he had to love it. Luckily this was only the third deep-woods mission he’d had to do in the winter season. Most supernaturals retreated into their habitats to avoid the cold.

“Hayden! Look out!” Annika’s voice was a mere echo, and he didn’t hear it in time.

He never got the chance to turn around, for he was thrown from his position and slammed against a tree trunk. Pain ripped through his body as his vision darkened. He could hear Annika and Rob calling his name as chaos ensued. The sound of guns firing and bullets sailing past his head barely registered in his half-conscious mind as he struggled to regain his grip on the now. The noise was almost unbearably loud, but his body refused to move, and his head lolled to the side as he fought to remain conscious.

Finally, his vision slowly returned, breaking through a foggy haze that made no sense. He was nowhere near his group. Ear-piercing howls bounced off the trees, pulling him back to reality with each brain-twisting sound. A blur of wolf fur flashed past him, moving toward the sounds of his comrades’ yells. The sight should have sent a panic through him, but nothing came. It was eerily calm inside, and his head swam as his eyes refused to cooperate and focus. He must have hit his head harder than he’d thought. Otherwise, he would be more alarmed about why he wasn’t concerned about anything.

A large white and gray spotted wolf approached him, snarling and baring its teeth through a rumble of growls. Hayden could barely get a good look at it as his vision refused to sharpen. He badly wanted to drift off into the beckoning sleep. The enormous wolf stopped snarling and sniffed him with a morbid curiosity, increasingly interested in the blood trickling from the gash on his head. Hayden tried to shift his position slowly, but his body refused to cooperate. He couldn’t move yet. Even so, he could feel his strength returning as his vision cleared up and landed directly on a pair of deep silver eyes.

Crap. This wasn’t good. There was nothing but malice in the wolf’s stare. What should he do? He was sitting at the base of a tree, his legs still splayed out in front of him, his arms weak and numb, feeling like rods of iron. His head wound seeped warm blood that dribbled down his brow and threatened to fall into his eyes. The only thing holding his head up was an indentation in the tree trunk. It was deep enough that he could see what the wolf was doing as it studied him with more interest than he cared for from a wild, magical creature. The wolf snarled as his eyes widened even more, and all the noise surrounding them slammed into him as his entire body screamed with pain.

He could move again, but hesitated to do so with the enormous wolf staring him down.

Shit! he thought to himself. This was far from a good situation. He could reach for the knife strapped on his left thigh, but the wolf would probably clamp his teeth into his arm before he reached it. There was also a gun strapped to his right hip; if only he could unsnap the holster, point, and shoot the damned creature… but there remained the same problem; the wolf was far too close and would probably get a grip on his arm before he was able to get off a round.

Dammit, he thought, his chest hammering harder and the wound on his head throbbing along with it. He was out of options. There was no one around to help him. Not one person from his team could even be heard over the increasingly thick snowfall drenching them with layers of new flakes. They were tapping against his jacket louder than he’d ever heard snowflakes fall before, sounding more like thick, heavy drops of rain. From the looks of it, sitting still was probably the best and only choice he had.

The wolf noticed he was conscious now but did not attack. It backed up and turned to look at the activity of its pack mates with interest. Taking the chance, Hayden used the opportunity to try to grab for his gun, but his right arm was sluggish and uncoordinated, refusing to respond. It ate up enough precious time for the wolf to return its focus on him. Changing his plan, he grabbed for the knife at his left hip, barely able to unbutton the sheath and slash it feebly through the air before the wolf clamped down on his arm. Razor sharp teeth slipped through the fabric of his jacket, down through his sweater, and straight into his flesh. Hayden screamed from the pain as the wolf squeezed harder, shearing his skin and threatening to snap his arm bones into two.

His scream faded into the chaos of howls signaling that the wolves had been victorious in defeating the trespassers. Hayden was now alone. Through the howling, he could hear snarling and jaws snapping as people screamed, grunted, and retreated back the way they had come.

He let go of the knife. It dropped into his lap, and finally able to move his right arm, he scooped it up and aimed it at the wolf’s throat, ramming it home. Unfortunately, he missed, barely slashing the creature on the shoulder. It let him go and snarled again before he managed to bring back his right hand and slam the knife right into the wolf’s upper left leg where it met the mass of its body. A shrill whine erupted from its throat before the snarl returned. Hayden readied for another attack, but the wolf took off running, a trail of blood splattering on the snow behind it. The rest of the wolves took notice and followed him, crunching away in the drifts as he galloped through the forest and disappeared.

Only his breathing and the patter of snow could now be heard. Hayden struggled to move his still stubborn legs and failed to get up. He pulled his left arm to his chest, cradling it and staving off the pain threatening to send him back into unconsciousness as he listened for his teammates.

He could hear nothing. He hoped they’d gotten away with their lives.

The fact remained that he knew he’d never see them again. He’d been bitten by a werewolf shifter. Part human, part wolf. Contaminated with their disease. It was the worst fate of all, for he would never be able to return to the Agency and work alongside his teammates again. He was considered tainted now, and that was exactly how he felt. Marred, discarded, and left for dead. They would certainly not return for him. It wasn’t their way, especially if they believed he’d been killed in action.

A far off call caught his attention. His teammates were retreating but calling out his name and those of a couple of his other team members. He couldn’t make out the other names, but there was no mistaking his. Maybe Annika and Rob had gotten away. They would fight to turn back and find him or even just call his name out into the dead of the forest like they were doing now.

The rage and disgust filled him, and he turned away from the faint voices. He couldn’t answer them even if he wanted to. Pulling himself up, with the tree bracing him, he let his swimming head settle before treading through the deep, thick snow drifts, already fatigued from the head injury and blood loss from his arm. After tying a handkerchief around his wound to keep the blood from leaving a trail, he made his way deeper into the snow-laden woods, following the tracks not of his friends, but of the wolves.

There was only one thing left to do: find the wolf that had bitten him and kill it.