Tristan watched Katarina intently, waiting for a command, a direction.

Dire Wolves were matriarchal by nature and he'd had no problems whatsoever accepting her leadership in the strange, two-party pack he'd found himself in. She carried herself with strength, and there was a sense of long cunning in her, both traits vital to the survival of a pack.

After he'd joined her pack, they'd journeyed to several places, hunting down people. He didn't understand why they were hunting people; they were apparently inedible because he had never once seen her eat them, nor had she given permission for him to eat them, either.

Katarina's mind was a tangled mess of emotions and it was difficult for him to understand her direction, leaving him with the struggle to understand on his own. She provided him with food, comfort from the cold, and the companionship that was so essential for the pack's survival, but her sense of command was distant and difficult to interpret.

Eventually he came to decide that understanding the why of hunting people wasn't necessary. Why was her job. Hunting and tracking was his.

Several sunrises back, she had captured a human with the bitter scent of old sweat and desperation and bound the man with cords. Several hours later, the man had broken free and fled, forcing them to take up the hunt again.

Tristan could have led Katarina to the man, but she also seemed to have his scent; she followed doggedly, relentlessly for days.

And now this place, a place of people, a place with a thousand myriad scents like knotted strings. He looked up towards Katarina. Were they going to continue tracking the same man? He could do that, if she just gave the command.

*****

Aston was a small town, so there was a chance that the inns would carry rumors of strangers, but on the flip side, they were intending on building out the small lumber town into a port city for the Yamato, so there was equally the chance that a stranger would go completely unnoticed.

When she’d captured Derid, the first thing she’d done had been to strip him of his belongings in case he held a weapon or a magical implement of some sort. Fortunately for her, he’d only had a handful of coppers, which she’d pocketed indifferently.

She stopped just outside the town proper and looked it over. Towards the city center there would likely be a number of inns and taverns, but the man didn’t have a coin to his name. On the outer edge of the city there were a couple of rundown taverns; it could be that he’d taken refuge in one of them. She’d have a look.

She stepped past a pair of men pulling a handcart out from an alley and stepped into the tavern itself, and invoked her auravision. If he’d used magic, it would show up as telltale residue, but unfortunately for her, there was nothing at all to indicate he’d done such a thing. She pushed her way to the counter, passed a couple of coppers to the filthy man that was drawing ales and pushing bowls of stew across the bar.

“Seen any strangers?” She asked, and he shrugged indifferently.

“I seen you.” He replied, pudgy cheeks specked with a salt-and-pepper beard.

Katarina gave him a sour look. “Nah. Looking for a man. Thin, scrawny. Gray cloak, brown scarf.”

She rolled a silver coin across her knuckles before she made it disappear, a trivial sleight of hand to encourage him to talk.

The bartender’s eyes lit up at the sight of an actual silver coin, but he jutted his chin at the crowd. “Man like that wouldn’t stick out in that.” He replied regretfully.

Katarina tapped her cheek. “He’s got a tattoo, if you catch my meaning.” She urged, but the man shook his head.

“Miss, you gonna buy sommin’ or are you gonna stand there jawin’ me?” He asked, frustrated, and Katarina grimaced.

“Up!” Katarina shouted and slapped her hand on the counter. Her dire wolf leapt up out of the press of bodies in the tavern onto the counter, causing everyone to draw back in shock. Some of the men that looked to be lumberjacks reached for the axes at their waists at the oversized wolf.

Tristan was huge for a wolf, and Katarina had been told that when he was fully grown he would nearly be the size of a horse. His horns had come in, peeking out from his forehead and powerful shoulders and down his spine, lending him a fearsome aspect.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention,” Katarina began while describing the man she was looking for. She eyed the crowd, all of whom were in terror of the beast that perched on the bar.

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All she received for her efforts were a double dozen heads shaking in terror and negation.

“Fuck.” She muttered, and turned back to the bar. She grabbed one of the bowls of stew that hadn’t been knocked to the ground and pushed it towards Tristan, who lapped it up eagerly.

Once he’d finished the greasy mess of meat and vegetables and was licking the bowl, she snapped her fingers in a command to follow, and pushed her way to the exit, her wolf trotting dutifully behind her.

She left the tavern and headed for the next. Someone, somewhere had to have a clue where the mage had gotten off to.

It was at her third tavern of the evening when she was accosted by the town militia.

“People’re sayin’ you been causin’ trouble, summoning fearsome beasts. You’re under arrest for witchcraft and heresy.” One of them declared, waving his spearpoint in her face. She knocked the spearpoint aside and pulled out her holy symbol and shoved it in his face.

“I’m a Witch Hunter you simpleton, now get the fuck out of my way.” she demanded, “before I decide to add another heretic to the list of the ones I’m already hunting.” She snarled.

The man stepped back, but she stepped forward, pushing her holy symbol into his face so that the cold metal gouged at his cheek.

“R-r-right!” The man finally agreed, and he and his men pulled back.

She ran the mages’ description by them, and they shook their heads, but agreed to look out for him.

After they’d taken to their heels and fled, Katarina allowed herself to slump in disappointment for a moment.

“The Church.” She decided, and turned her horse in the direction of the ostentatious building at the center of town.

At the church, she swung down from her horse and took off her hat while absently giving Tristan the hand signal to stay at her heels.

She strode inside, flipping her braid over her shoulder, Tristan right behind her. A pastor was guiding a choir through a hymn; she passed him without a glance and moved deeper into the church, passing the wing where another pastor was lecturing some of the township on the virtues of upright living, and the terror of living outside of the Goddess’ own holy light. The world was filled with blasphemies, monsters, mutants, and madness, and it was only the Golden Lady’s protection that could keep them safe.

An acolyte rushed towards her and skidded to a stop. “Uhhh, miss, errr, I mean, animals aren’t allowed-”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Katarina replied impatiently, and thrust her holy symbol in his face. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.” She declared flatly. “Take me to whoever’s in charge and be quick about it.”

*****

Tristan didn’t understand what Katarina wanted. Weren’t they chasing after someone? Had that changed? She’d strode right by the scent of the man she’d caught earlier as if she hadn’t noticed.

Still, he followed where she led. He rather liked the food she’d given him at the place filled with the stink of terror that wafted from the pores of all that were there, though it was a depressingly small amount. Would they go back? He hoped they would.

*****

“The bishop is out for the evening; is there something I can assist you with...” the man’s eyes traveled the length of her figure twice. It was obscenity itself to see a woman wearing trousers like a man, though he had to admit the woman was attractive enough to nearly distract him from it.

Katarina grimaced. “You are?” She asked pointedly, and gestured; Tristan took the signal and interposed himself between her and the man, who hurriedly took a step backward.

“Archpastor Jason Greenstreet.” he replied, deciding to step away from the bone-spiked wolf and keep his eyes on the woman that controlled it. “I serve as the temporary governor of the city and oversee its administrative needs.” He explained.

“I’m hunting a Witch.” Katarina explained flatly. “He’s been in your city for at least a day, maybe two.”

An alarmed look passed across his face. “A Witch-” he took another uncertain step backwards.

“A Witch, here?” he exclaimed in a low voice.

“You know where he is?” Katarina asked, and the man rubbed his chin. “The only thing I’ve heard this evening is reports of a woman-” he cut himself off as she gave him a lopsided grin and pulled back her duster from her hip to reveal the heavy gun.

“...right.” He stammered, but shook his head.

“Any place a penniless man might go to ground?” Katarina asked. “He’s probably looking for a place to hide.”

“Does he have a visible Mark of Sanction?” He asked, and she nodded and tapped her cheek.

“Hmm. Would be hard to hide something like that, I’d imagine.”

Katarina wordlessly lifted her neckerchief and covered the lower half of her face with it while giving him an ostentatious look of condescension.

“...right.” He agreed again, in a defeated voice. “Still, there’s not much I can do for you right now. It’s possible that in the morning, you could speak with the Bishop? The morning reports?”

Katarina let out a sigh. Every moment separated her from her quarry a moment longer than she’d like.

“Fine. Do you have a room for those of the Defender?” She asked, referring to the Golden Lady in her militaristic aspect.

He nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem at all.”

Katarina nodded, and then eyed Tristan. That little bowl of stew likely wasn’t enough to satisfy the giant wolf.

“And give me some food for him.” she stated, indicating the wolf that was currently investigating the man’s shoes, sniffing curiously. She took a conspiratory step to the man and lowered her voice.

“He really likes meat.”