Death Scent - S. V. Wolf.pdf

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Death
Scent
S.V. Wolf
Black Rose Writing
www.blackrosewriting.com
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© 2012 by S.V. Wolf
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without
the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer
who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a
newspaper, magazine or journal.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
First printing
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance
to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-61296-101-9
PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
www.blackrosewriting.com
Printed in the United States of America
Death Scent is printed in Times New Roman
 
To my BF, Laura, & Kim, my Bro’s Bren & Matt
and their lovely brides Gina and M.J.;
thank you for all your support and encouragement.
To Titan; my heart – this book was written in tribute to you.
You still saunter beside me, even though you have walked
the wind. As I promised you - I will think of you with a warm
smile every time a gentle wind presses my cheek.
 
Prologue
Grandmother Spirit hummed a tune low in her throat while rubbing
the Shepherd puppy’s belly. Titan was spread out in her lap on his
back, basking in the sleepy feel of her hand. “Amazing,” she
murmured with a soft hum. “Amazing that you are so big, amazing
what you're born to do!”
Nine week old Titan jumped from Grandmother Spirit’s lap, and
darted toward the sound of the doorbell. The door opened slowly, a
tan face with fair green eyes appearing in the crack . “Shawnee, my
dear, how are you?” Grandmother Spirit pulled the door open wider,
allowing the petite young woman to step into the living room. Titan
watched the strange woman move through the door like the wind was
at her bidding.
“Is this him?” Shawnee asked her grandmother.
Beaming, Grandmother Spirit scooped Titan up with wrinkled
hands; his big belly sloshed from side to side as oversized paws
flopped wildly in the air. She cradled him like an infant. “Yes,” she
said with confidence, “he is the one. There's no doubt.” The leathered
old woman smiled. “He has the mark of Weshimaneto look.” She was
referring to the Great Mystery. Opening Titan’s small mouth with the
tip of one bony finger, she pressed down lightly on his tongue.
Shawnee looked to the back of the little red muscle where the mark
was revealed; a black ink-like birthmark in the crude shape of a cross,
just like her own.
 
Death
Scent
 

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