Luke and Tasha had tied their horses to the nearby stumps and logs and were cannily hidden from the eyes of the guards of the Whiteclaw pack. They had climbed the trees and in order to hide their smells, they had plucked the leaves in the forest, ground them in paste and rubbed it all over their bodies.
Right now, sitting higher on a branch, Luke focused on the sounds emanating from the pack. He was waiting to hear commotion which would be his cue to attack from the front gate.
"After how long will you be seeing your father, Luke?" Tasha asked, sitting on a branch lower than him, interrupting his thoughts.
Luke stilled. A moment later, in a cold voice replied, "It's been over five years."
"Do you remember your sister?" she asked further in a low voice.
He wasn't liking the flow of the conversation. "Yes, but I remember her childish face. I don't know how she looks now."
