The dream shifted again, shimmering at the edges briefly before unnervingly snapping the pair back to the cramped, dingy apartment. The air was still heavy with mildew and the faint stench of spoiled food. The floorboards creaked beneath Danielle's paws as she shifted.
Mason stood near the center of the room staring down at his feet. His small frame hunched slightly under the weight of the backpack slung over his shoulders. A small duffle bag rested at his feet. His dark hair fell in damp, unkempt strands across his forehead, and his clothes were stained and worn.
Danielle’s nose twitched. The scent of his sweat mingled with the lingering odors of unwashed dishes and stale air.
Across the room, the same woman from earlier was speaking quietly but firmly to Mason’s mother. She explained
