Azrael's POV:
The forest quiets after they leave.
Not because the storm passed — storms are simple things — but because the presence that disturbed its balance has gone with them.
I remain where I stood long after the wolves retreat deeper into their territory. The Alpha does not order me away. He does not need to. His land understands what entered it tonight, and what chose not to stay.
The rain still clings to the branches, sliding slowly from leaf to leaf. I feel each drop strike the earth before it falls.
But my attention is nowhere near the forest.
It follows her.
Not physically.
Something far less voluntary.
A faint pull presses at the edge of my awareness, subtle enough most beings would mistake it for thought. I do not mistake things. Not after the centuries I have existed
