Erling, Reynold, and Wes rode south along the creek trail with the sounds of the hunt growing louder ahead of them. The sounds of the horns had changed in the last few minutes. The blasts of sound were shorter and more urgent, overlapping in a way that suggested the pursuit was closing in on its quarry rather than chasing it across open ground.
"It's slowing down," Reynold said, cocking his head to listen as his cracked spear rested across his shoulder. "Do you think they took the horns away from the brats? Or have the other hunters caught up to it?"
"Sorcha doesn't like it when I gamble," Wes said lightly as he returned his sword to its scabbard. "But if I did, I'd put my money on the others catching up. I don't see Riwall and the others giving up their horns. The hounds are louder too," he said as he listened. "Sounds like they're all bunching up ahead."
