The forest swallowed us whole.
Every sound was wrong-the rustle of leaves came half a second late, as if the world itself were echoing. The moonlight struggled to reach the ground; what did break through shimmered like oil, twisting between the trees.
We found the first signs near the ridge. A clearing where the grass had turned gray. Claw marks gouged deep into the earth, but no scent of blood. Only ash.
Lilly crouched beside one of the tracks.
“These weren’t left by rogues. They were pack prints-our size.”
“They’re changing,” I said.
The air trembled. A low growl rolled through the mist-followed by another, out of rhythm, layered atop the first like a haunting harmony. Two voices in one throat.
The shadows moved.
Wolves stepped into the clearing, but their bodies weren’t solid. T
