I wake with energy instead of pain for the first time since crossing the border, and the difference is so startling that I lie still for several breaths just to make sure it’s real. The ache in my side is still there, a dull, manageable reminder rather than a sharp warning, and when I stretch carefully it holds instead of protesting. My wolf stirs, alert but calm, and the bond hums low beneath my ribs, steady and observant, as if it’s checking my balance before deciding whether to comment.
That’s when I know I can’t just lie here.
Rest has kept me alive, but it’s also made my muscles restless, coiled too long without purpose, and the thought of losing conditioning bothers me more than I expect. Training has always been how I keep my head clear, how I remind myself that my body is mine, r
