With Vivian safely accounted for back at the inn, Ronan was at liberty to resume his investigations. He traced his way back to the market area, searching out the unusual scent he sensed earlier.
He trod his way to one of the shady market sellers he was well acquainted with. The stall was located in the corner of the sheltered market area, hardly noticeable at a glance since it was camouflaged by animal skin and furs.
Ronan rang the miniature bell attached to the tent roof of the stall, alerting the attention of an old man hidden underneath a black coat and hood.
"Ah, the Lycan laddie, what can I do for ye?" The old man greeted, recognising Ronan immediately. "Haven't seen yer in Clawveld for ages."
Ronan leaned against the makeshift wooden counter, resting his elbows over the top surface.
"I'll be straight to the point, Dale," Ronan said, his voice dropping to a whisper to avoid the keen ears of nearby shifters. "Have you seen any Moonborn wolves wandering into these parts?"
