John McKnight knelt down and put his hands against the ashes of the campfire. “They broke camp maybe two hours ago,” he said quietly. The rest of the gang wandered around the camp site, gathering up any evidence they could find to assist them on the hunt. He had two men and one woman on his crew for this hunt. They were good hunters, all of them. McKnight had received a frantic call two nights ago about a woman who turned into a beast and ripped a man’s throat out.
If any other law-enforcement officer had taken that report, they would have dismissed it as some drunken, citified hunter who got spooked in the woods and started making up fantastic stories. They would have put it down to a rabid coyote or stray dogs. But not McKnight. He had perked up and paid attention immediately.
M
