When I left the clinic, I took the wooden rose and boarded a bus heading north.
I had no destination in mind. I only wanted to put as much distance as possible between myself and that city.
The bus wound through the mountains for four hours. Outside the window, high-rises gave way to farmland, and farmland gave way to forest. I leaned against the window, the scar beneath the bandage cool and numb.
My inner wolf no longer had the strength to hurt.
It only slept, heavy and still, like a wounded animal curled up in a corner, its breathing so slow and faint that it might stop at any moment.
I got off at the last stop, a small town tucked between two mountains, with a river threading through its center.
I pushed open the door of a flower shop.
The light inside was warm, and the air was t
