The wolf trotted a step ahead of Erik on the stairwell landing, then stopped mid-stride, ears flattening, a low growl building somewhere deep in his chest that hadn't been there a heartbeat earlier.
Erik felt it before he consciously registered the sound — the strange, cold thread of unease that occasionally passed between them through the bond, sharper now than it had been in weeks. Hrimnir had learned to soften his own shape weeks ago, coat trimmed shorter in the mind's eye, frame drawn in just enough to pass for a large husky at a glance rather than the alpha wolf he actually was — a small adjustment that spared them both the trouble of explaining his true nature to every frightened tenant they passed. But the growl building in his throat now carried none of the softness his adjusted form usually implied.
What is it, Erik asked silently.
Hrimnir didn't answer immediately. His nose lifted, testing the stale air of the stairwell, eyes fixed on nothing Erik could see.
