The wolves ran on Saturday.
Selene had known this was coming. She had watched the previous Saturday from her bedroom window as the pack assembled in the courtyard in the early morning darkness, the particular energy of a group preparing for something physical, collective, and deeply instinctive. She had watched them shift at the tree line, one by one and then in groups, the human shapes giving way to wolf shapes with a fluid ease that she had observed with something she had not let herself examine too directly.
This Saturday she did not watch from her window.
She was in the courtyard when they assembled.
She had come down at five thirty with her notebook and her cardigan, and the focus stone in her pocket, where it had lived since Mara gave it to her. She had stood at the edge of the c
