He circled the house, his boots sinking deep, and studied the snow for tracks, for any sign of the intruder. There it was. A mass of fur and bloody entrails staining the pure white snow. The carcass was hidden just inside the tree line, downwind about thirty yards from the back of the house. It used to be a wild hare but was now a message from an enemy—an enemy who should be dead but wasn’t. Pike was alive.
