And that was when it hit me. A jolt of nervous static right at the top of my spine, a shiver, as if someone had just walked over my grave. Something shifting in the air between us, vibrating like a plucked string. It was primal, visceral. An ancient instinct that would have warned a stone age hunter there was a wolf crouching in the shadows, ready to pounce. You can’t see the danger, or smell it, or hear it. But you sense it, as the fine hairs stand up on the back of your neck.
