The forest is thick with shadows, but I move like I’ve been here before, silent, careful. Every branch that snaps underfoot makes me flinch. The rogue wolves I saw from the clearing are still somewhere out there, and I can feel them before I see them. My chest tightens, but I push it down. Panic will get me caught.
I pressed myself against a tree, barely daring to breathe. Their low growls drift through the underbrush, echoing in a way that makes my stomach twist. I’ve never faced them alone. Never been this exposed.
The voice in my head doesn’t speak yet. It’s watching. Waiting. I feel its presence like a pulse, steady, almost impatient. Good. Stay sharp, it seems to say.
I peek around the tree. A wolf prowls near a fallen log, its fur black in the moonlight, eyes glinting like molten
