Raven’s POV
I swear I knew this symbol.
That was the thing that frightened me most, more than the blood still crusting at my collarbone, more than the sound of the rain filling the silence where Dean’s last breath had been. I knew it the way you know a smell that takes you back somewhere you’ve tried your whole life to forget. Not consciously. Not from any map or text or pack history lesson. I knew it the way my body knew things my mind hadn’t caught up with yet, deep and wordless and cold.
My mother had shown it to me in the dark water. I hadn’t understood it then, floating in that space between living and not. But here, in the busted firelight of a cabin full of bodies, holding that scorched scrap of fabric in my shaking hands, the recognition hit me like a fist to the sternum.
“Wher
