The campground entrance is easy to miss, hidden in the darkness without any streetlights to mark it. Thankfully, many of the campers parked here have LED lighting strips along their rigs, and I slow before I miss the turn.
"Where?" I demand.
Thom closes his eyes, concentrating. "Keep going. She'll be on our left. I'll know when we get closer."
I drive deeper into the campground, wheels crunching on gravel. Rolling my window down seems like a mistake at first. The place reeks of humans—their food, their waste, their cheap alcohol. But beneath it all, I catch hints of her scent, growing stronger.
"That interference," Thom mumbles, seemingly to himself. "It's stronger here. Almost like..."
"Like what?" I snap.
"Like something's deliberately masking her." He opens his eyes, pupils dilated. "Something old."
Jack-Eye opens his own window, shoving his head outside to breathe in deep. "There's a shifter… Blue Mountain."
I can smell him, too.
