Wren woke early the next morning, the house quiet around her, and lay for a while in the pale light watching dust motes drift through the air above her bed, turning over the enormity of what had shifted the night before on the porch.
She thought about the woman she'd been six weeks ago, arriving in Thornevale with two suitcases and a plan to be gone within two months, careful and self contained in the particular way of someone who'd learned early that depending on people too fully tended to end in disappointment. That woman would have found the last month's events entirely unbelievable, werewolves and ancient enemies and a bond that had rearranged her whole understanding of what her life was supposed to look like.
She didn't feel like that woman anymore. Somewhere in the space between th
