[Ace's POV]
As I moved through the crowd, I forced every enhanced sense to its absolute limit. My hearing strained past the music and laughter, catching fragments of conversations. My sight scanned every face, every silhouette, rejecting a thousand possibilities every second. My sense of smell was a tangled web of roasting meat, spilled ale, and perfume, but I sifted through it with a desperate, singular focus.
Then I caught it—a fragile, familiar thread woven through the olfactory chaos. The unique scent of wildflowers that was purely, unmistakably Ovelia. My wolf, Fenrir, surged within me, a silent, triumphant howl. She is near.
Ahead, I saw a knot of people gathering, their postures tense with the anticipation of a spectacle. Murmurs rippled through the air towards me.
"What a disgusting pervert," a woman's voice hissed from within the cluster.
"Instead of getting involved, let's just fetch a watcher," a man's pragmatic but cowardly voice suggested.
