Tristan was happy to have a trail to follow, though he was worried about the sense of uncertainty that radiated out from Katarina. A proper matriarch radiated confidence and surety of purpose, even when things were uncertain.

Could it be her sense of smell was differed from his? She carried things that easily destroyed his own sense of smell; that thing on her hip for example carried a scent of violence and menace, a powerful smell that seemed to drown out everything whenever she pulled it from her holster.

The mouth-watering scent of meat suddenly overwhelmed his senses, and he looked up and back to Katarina, who was talking to a man who was shaving meat from a pile of meat.

Katarina shook her head at the man and then pointed at Tristan.

The man grimaced but nodded, and then offered her the whole pile of meat.

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She laughed, nodded, and took the meat, which appeared to be held together with a metal rod.

“Look at you. Your eyes are glued to this.” She murmured with a smile as she led Tristan to a bench and gestured for him to eat.

The meat was flavorful and delicious, juicy and succulent.

He tore great chunks of the meat and swallowed it whole while Katarina, his matriarch ate more reservedly.

“I hope we can find Derid soon.” She muttered in a frustrated voice.

He tried to send to her that it wouldn’t be long now, that they would be on the trail again as soon as he was done eating, but something curious happened.

Her mind hardened, keeping him out. She rubbed her forehead and frowned. “Headache.” She muttered.

That was unsettling to him. His kind, the Dire Wolves, relied heavily on the ability to communicate with each other. While there was a lot that could be expressed through body language, much more could be shared through the interconnection between them.