Mira dreamed in blood.
It soaked the earth, black and steaming under a moon split by smoke. The air tasted of iron and ash, thick enough to choke on. She was running—small legs, too short, pounding uneven ground while screams shredded the night behind her.
“Don’t look back,” someone shouted.
She did anyway.
Fire climbed the trees like hungry hands. Wolves fell and some shifting mid-stride, others crushed beneath collapsing stone. She saw her grandmother at the edge of the clearing, silver hair unbound, eyes blazing with a fury that burned brighter than the flames.
“Run, Mira!”
A shadow moved behind her grandmother large, pale, and fast. A flash of white fur, a snarl, and then Mira screamed.
She woke with a violent gasp, heart slamming against her ribs, claws threatening to tear thro
