#Harper
I woke to the sound of something heavy hitting the earth in a steady rhythm... thud, thud, thud... like a drumline staffed by angry rhinos.
For a blissful half-second, I thought I was in my old room in Sydney, and it was just the garbage truck being dramatic again. Then Clawed headbutted my chin, I inhaled pine and woodsmoke instead of ocean salt, and the thudding outside turned into a low, chest-deep roar.
Right. Forest. Werewolves. Witch aunt. Werebear houseguest. My life is a Mad Lib.
I shoved my hair into a tragic bun, grabbed the nearest hoodie (oversized, black, probably unwashed), and shuffled to the window. The glass was cool under my fingertips. When I peered out, I had to blink twice.
“Okay… wow.”
Our clearing had been converted into a National Geographic episode.
