It’s a Protector: K.C.
The sun was high enough to reflect off the mirror on the top of the dresser when I finally opened my eyes. For the first time in longer than I could think, I didn’t wake up with my muscles coiled like a spring, waiting for the sound of a snap in the brush or a ping on a monitor. The static wasn’t just gone, it had been replaced by the soft, rhythmic puff of Tess’s breath against my chest. I stayed still for a long time, watching the dust motes dance in the light. She was dead to the world still. Her hair was a wild, dark halo across the pillow, and one hand was still curled loosely in the quilt. The wolf was silent. No pacing, no growling at the shadows. It was just basking in the heat of her, finally settled in the den we’d built out of the wreckage of the last two weeks. Slow, care
- Writer
