(Winter's POV)
She blinked awake, consciousness returning with the gradual inevitability of dawn breaking over mountains. The room was still dim, gray light filtering through curtains that hadn't been fully drawn, and Winter lay still for a moment, orienting herself. The stone ceiling above her. The weight of blankets that smelled of cedar and clean linen. The absence of bond-pain that had once been her constant companion.
Early morning. The time she normally rose, when the compound was still quiet and the warriors were still sleeping off yesterday's exertions. Her body knew this rhythm, had kept it even in a strange bed in a strange pack. A soft knock at the door. "Enter," she called, her voice rough with sleep.
Bethany entered with the efficiency of a servant who knew her charge's rou
