Menelik’s Point Of View
I stood in the mud and watched shifted and run into the woods until she was nothing more than a memory against the dark trunks of the trees. The silence of the forest rushed back in to fill the space she’d left, but it felt hollow now.
Thirteen years.
I’d spent more than a decade searching for the girl who had pulled a broken, wolf-less boy out of the dirt and told him that if he didn't fight, he deserved to die. I could still feel the scar on my ribs where the rogues had tried to gut me when I was eight, I was too young to have Farkas, wolf, leaving me defenseless. I could still hear her voice, small, fierce, and utterly confident, telling me she wouldn't let them take me. She’d fought them off with nothing but a silver pocketknife and a stubbornness that shoul
