When I woke, the first thing I expected to see was blood.
Blood on the doorframe. Blood soaking into the rushes on the floor. Blood spattered across the stone from where the wolves had torn each other apart.
But there was nothing.
I blinked into the pale morning light, my body stiff from having fallen asleep fully clothed, curled against the bedframe. The door stood whole again, smooth wood, untouched by claw or fang. The rushes were clean. The air smelled only faintly of ash from the extinguished fire, no iron tang clinging to my tongue.
I sat up slowly, my heart hammering. My throat still burned from screaming, but the evidence of my terror was gone.
No blood. No ruin. No proof.
I scrambled to my feet, stumbling to the door. My hands flew across the wood, searching for splinters, f
