Trinket woke with a start two nights later when someone knocked on her bedroom door.

"Trinket, are you awake?" Booker asked from the hallway.

She blinked against the darkness, her vision blurry as she fumbled for a candle and matches. After managing to strike up a flame, she threw on her dressing gown and opened the door. Booker, fully dressed and with a lit candle in his hand, flashed her an impish grin. This was clearly not an emergency.

"Can I help you, Mr. Larkin?" she asked, glancing back at the clock in her room. It was only a little after three in the morning.

"It just stopped snowing."

"So? It's been snowing all night."

"Exactly. It's been snowing all night while everyone's been sleeping, and now it has stopped snowing in the early hours of the morning while people are still sleeping."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know what you want from me, Booker."

"There is fresh powder on the streets. No one will be up walking about, so any tracks that some creature may leave as it wanders around in search of food and shelter will be left undisturbed for those interested in finding them."

Ah. Now she understood. "All right, but why do you need me?"

"You're my assistant, aren't you?"

She opened her mouth to object, but her head was foggy with sleep, and she couldn't put a coherent sentence together.

"Besides," he continued, "I need your keen observation skills. You may catch things that I would otherwise miss."

She rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Give me five minutes to get dressed."

He beamed victoriously as she closed the door on him. She quickly set her candle down so she could pull one of her work dresses out of the wardrobe and clumsily plait her hair into a braid. After lacing up her boots, she pinched out the candle and opened the door to find Booker impatiently drumming his fingers against the wall.

"Let's be off," he said as he linked his arm with hers and pulled her towards the stairs.

~

The temperature had dropped significantly. Despite her thick coat wrapped tightly around her, the chill still seeped into Trinket's bones. She kept rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself but to no avail. The night was silent yet deafening. Something about snowy nights made silence loud. Every tiny noise could be heard from even a great distance. If the Wolf was out there, they were sure to hear it.

"Look at this. Not a single mark on any of it," Booker said as he scanned the freshly coated street.

"I wouldn't think so this early in the morning," she said, gazing at a nearby shop, its dark display window covered in frost.

There was a clatter up ahead.

She and Booker stopped in their tracks. It was impossible to tell if it had been close by or farther off. Trinket's eyes darted about, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Of course, once finding something, the real task would be deciding if it was actually there or not.

"We should stick together," Booker whispered.

"I had no intentions of setting off on my own," she said.

He pressed a hard object into her palm. "Take this."

She furrowed her brow and glanced down.

A pistol.

Her muscles tensed as the cold metal grew heavy in her grip. "What's this for?"

"We should both be armed," he said, his gaze sweeping their surroundings. "Don't worry, I have another one on me."

It wasn't him she was concerned about. Knowing how dangerous she was with a knife, she could only imagine what terrible atrocities she could commit with a gun.

She took a deep breath and lowered the pistol to her side, pretending it wasn't there as she and Booker skulked through the street. They heard no more noises as they continued along, but Booker remained optimistic.

"What I find strange is that the Wolf hasn't made its way out of the city and off towards the countryside," he said. "Most wolves would have the instinct to go where food is, and livestock would make a far better meal than rats and pigeons."

"So do you think the Wolf was bred in captivity?"

"That's a possibility. But I also have a feeling this beast came from here as opposed to escaping from a distant menagerie or whatnot."

"You believe someone in Tinkerfall lost it?"

He grinned. "I don't think he lost it. I think he released it."

A lonesome howl pierced the night air.

Booker froze and squeezed her arm excitedly. The pistol in her hand grew heavier with each passing second, but even as another howl ripped through the silence, she refused to raise it.

"It's close," he whispered.

"Clearly."

"Come on, we need to at least find some tracks."

They picked up their pace and soon discovered, not only the Wolf's tracks, but bloodstained snow and what was left of a pigeon.

Booker moved the feathers and bones aside with his walking stick. "Looks fresh."

"If the Wolf is so hungry, would it really have abandoned its kill?"

"Good point. It may have heard us coming and taken off. Which means it must be nearby."

The tracks circled around the Clocktower and headed into the market. Trinket's lungs ached from the cold air as she and Booker ran through the empty streets, but she dared not slow down for fear of losing the Wolf's trail. Gulping down a painful breath, she held on tighter to Booker's arm and pushed through the pain.

Their pursuit led them into the suburbs, and the warmth of familiarity suddenly rushed through her veins. It was like stepping back into her hometown. So similar and yet so different. The wrought-iron fences, the perfectly trimmed hedges, the elegant houses—it was everything she'd left behind. Everything she'd destroyed.

Swallowing down the memories, she pulled her gaze away from a particularly lovely house and caught sight of a flash of eyes in the snow-covered yard. She tugged on Booker's coat to bring him to a halt.

A shadow moved near the hedges.

She gripped her pistol and took a sharp breath. The figure turned to face them, illuminated by the light of a nearby gaslamp.

A metallic grin shone through the darkness.

Booker pulled out his pistol and shot at the Wolf, but the beast was quick, dodging the bullet and darting behind the house.

"We can't lose it," Booker hissed as he released her arm and leapt over the fence.

She lifted her skirts and ran towards the gate, electing not to follow in his fashion. The snow crunched beneath her feet as she chased after him and slipped into the backyard.

The Wolf was limping across the lawn with Booker on its heels.

Limping.

Its back leg was injured.

If the luminous teeth hadn't been enough proof, the animal's uneven gait was a guaranteed sign that this was the same wolf that had attacked her in the alley. This was the creature Booker so desperately wanted to find.

No. Not the creature. The man who had created it.

The Wolf bounded over another fence and into the neighbor's yard. Booker did the same, and she was right behind him. Her skirt snagged on one of the iron spires, and the fabric tore up to her knee. A cold breeze nipped at her legs, but she gathered up the ruined material and continued on with the chase.

Booker shot at the beast again. The bullet hit the snowy ground where the Wolf had been only a moment before.

"Blast it all," he exclaimed.

"Oy! You!"

Trinket's breath caught in her throat. A man in a sleeping gown and nightcap was standing at the backdoor, a candle in his hand and a scowl on his face.

Taking hold of her shoulders and drawing her close, Booker offered a smile and a wave to the man. "Good evening! Lovely night for a stroll, is it not?"

The man's red face grew redder as he took a step towards them, but a low growl made him freeze. The Wolf was crouched behind a snowdrift, snarling in his direction. He gasped and dropped his candle, the flame fizzling out with a hiss.

"I'd love to sit and chat," Booker said, "but as you can see, we're a little busy. Perhaps another time."

The Wolf snapped its teeth before spinning around and sprinting back the way it had come. Giving the angry homeowner a quick salute, Booker ran after the beast, dragging Trinket along with him.

They pursued the creature into the market. Booker shot at it whenever he found an opportunity but missed every time. It circled the Clocktower again, trampling the remains of its abandoned meal and then disappearing into an alleyway.

"We've got it now," Booker said, squeezing her hand as he led her into the dark alley.

The beast was cornered, its back against a wall. Panting heavily, hackles raised, it glared at them with a mixture of fear and rage. Foamy spittle lined its muzzle, dripping onto the dirty, snowy ground.

A chill ran through Trinket's bones. An image of that horrible night flashed through her mind again.

A demonic wolf.

Growling. Lunging.

And her. Stabbing.

Blood. Everywhere. His blood. His life.

Ended.

The memory faded as quickly as it had come, and she gritted her teeth, focusing on the present moment.

Booker raised his pistol. Aimed it at the animal's back leg. Cocked the trigger.

A shot rang out in the night.

But not from Booker's gun.

They turned to find a group of police officers behind them, one with a smoking pistol, the others ready with billy clubs.

"Stop right there!" shouted the gun-wielding officer.

Booker held up his hands. "Sirs, please, there's a—"

Before he could even put on the charm, the Wolf tore out of the alley, knocking them aside and barreling through the police. The officers scrambled to their feet, their attention now on the beast that was running through the city center.

Grabbing her hand, Booker steered her through the shadowy streets and into another alley a few shops down. He opened the basement window of what looked like an abandoned building and ushered her inside. She managed to land on her feet and then stepped aside as he slipped in after her.

They stayed silent and motionless in the shadows as the police shouted in the streets, firing their guns at the Wolf and causing more of a ruckus than the two of them had. When the commotion finally faded into the distance, Booker released a long breath and smiled down at her.

"Well, that was exciting," he said.

"That's one way to put it," she said as she glanced about the dingy basement. There were tables and chairs lining the walls, and a deck of cards was scattered on the floor alongside several empty glasses. "What is this place?"

"Abandoned, which makes it the perfect location for an underground gambling den run by thugs and swindlers."

Thugs and swindlers? "Is it safe to be here then?"

"Oh, yes. They change locations periodically to keep the police off their trail. Besides, I'm often one of their patrons, so it wouldn't be so strange for them to find me here."

"Why does that not surprise me," she mumbled.

Booker stooped forward with a grin. "What was that?"

She shook her head. "Just catching my breath."

After waiting a while to be sure the police were gone, they crawled back out into the alley. Taking her hand, Booker inched towards the entrance, peering around the corner before daring to step foot in the street. They stuck to the shadows just to be safe, but the police seemed to be nowhere in sight.

"I can't believe it got away," Booker said as they headed home.

"You're lucky we didn't get hauled into the station," she said, hugging her body for warmth. Now that the adrenaline was gone, she couldn't stop trembling. Although, perhaps it was more the flashback that had shaken her up than the cold.

"Oh, I could've talked our way out of that. We were so close, too. Blast it."

He swiped at the air with his walking stick, and she laughed softly. "Well, there's always next time," she said, unable to keep her teeth from chattering as she spoke.

Booker furrowed his brow. "Are you all right?"

"It's nothing," she insisted, although the quiver in her voice said otherwise.

"You're shaking. Surely the Wolf didn't terrify you that much?"

"No, no, it wasn't that."

"The police then?"

"No," she said, refusing to reveal the truth to him. "I'm just cold is all."

He asked no more questions, but as they continued to walk, she suddenly felt something bulky on her shoulders. She looked up to find Booker draping his coat over her. Smiling, he placed his top hat on her head and put his arm around her, drawing her closer to the warmth of his body. The human contact actually helped to steady her nerves, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned into him.

"We'll get it next time," he said.