The scratch came again from inside the first ice shelter.
Ty stopped with his wrapped hand lifted against his chest. The case rolled one more inch before the rail caught and held. Cold pressed through his coat and sank straight into the split lines of his palm. The pain changed shape there, sharper and slower, as if the mark had been packed with snow.
JJ moved between him and the shelter door.
"If something climbs out of the worker igloo, I am charging the building rent," she said. "Nobody gets free intimidation after the blood room."
Blue crouched beside the case and checked the rail. Frost had gathered around the guide wheels in white curls. The case glass fogged near the old skull, then cleared, then fogged again with each push of air from the hall.
The scratch came from the shelter wall, low and steady, repeating in a simple pattern of scrape, pause, scrape.
