Lyra returned to the main hall three days later.
No announcement. No warning. No escort.
She simply appeared at Derek’s side during the evening gathering, as if she had always belonged there, as if she had never been absent at all.
She wore soft colors — pale cream and muted rose — fabrics that fell gently around her frame and made her look fragile, delicate. It was like she had never been untouched by conflict. The kind of colors that wolves thinks to be taken care of, to be protected.
The murmurs started immediately. People began to talk to each other. The murmurs were were, like a whisper that filled the air.
Heads turned one by one. They stopped talking mid-sentence. Whispers spread quietly like the wind through tall grass, soft but impossible to ignore.
I felt it before I saw
