Closing In

The Wolf raced through the sewers at a quick pace now, stopping only occasionally to sniff the air or inspect some rubble on the ground. The edges of his vision blurred as he moved, as though his senses were too busy to bother with rendering full images. He was, predictably, underneath the industrial district of Nachton, and the tunnels smelled of waste and blood and rats. There was, however, a trace, just a hint, for The Wolf to follow. It wove like a little girl's hair ribbon through the familiar paths of the sewers, an unexpected brightness in the grime.

The Wolf knew these sewers well indeed, and was expecting the split in the tunnel ahead. He was, however, surprised enough to stop with a grunt when he discovered his trail split as well. Recovering quickly, he directed his wolf to go one way and turned to go the other himself.

Interesting. The Wolf doubted The Praetor would be pleased with this news. His instincts, however, very rarely led him wrong down here; the network was mapped in his mind with uncanny precision, something that simply made sense to him. He had haunted the sewers for years, hiding in the dark places and waiting to strike the fools and the unwary, the monster under -everyone's- bed. The Wolf chuckled at the thought, and pressed on, occasionally sending instructions to his pet and receiving his simple canine replies.

It was several hours before The Wolf finally met his pet in the flesh again, but the time was well spent. Together they had established a perimeter, and that was progress. Even if The Praetor was not pleased, The Wolf felt that he would, at least, be interested; the Traitor's arm was ambitious indeed.

The Wolf was of the opinion that they had bitten off far more of this city than they could chew in their reach for power. Their greed amused him.

The Wolf would need to surface to mark the street names that marked Traitor territory; while he knew exactly where he was at all times in the Sewers, his sense of direction had no relationship with the streets and buildings above. He simply -knew-, not by surface landmarks but by...feel, and smell. That would not do for The Praetor; in fact, describing the location "his way"Â? would likely piss the Tacharan off, which was not what The Wolf wanted despite the amusement value.

Dismissing the pet, The Wolf ran back through the tunnels, turning sharply through hidden places and apparent dead ends, taking the most direct route to his home. He would need to change before surfacing into something that would not draw attention to himself, as filthy clothes that stank of the sewers were bound to do. He climbed out of the grate conveniently located near his corner town home. He could afford nicer, but he was home rarely enough that it never seemed important.

There was a message waiting for him inside. The Wolf scowled, wondering if he should return the call now or after his search, and decided it would be best to be prompt.

He dialed Carol's number.