A silvery dusk settled over the ancient wood as Anthony, Miles, and Sarah slipped through the underbrush on silent paws, each of them surrendering to the primal joy of their wolf forms. The night was crisp, the air alive with scents of moss, cool earth, and distant rain. Their muscles flexed beneath thick coats, moving not with purpose, but for the sheer pleasure of being—of running unhindered beneath the boughs that arched like cathedral vaults above their heads.
But Anthony’s mind was tangled, restless. Even as he ran, the rhythm of his breath and stride could not quiet the storm inside him. Kathy’s face kept flickering through his thoughts—the haunted look in her eyes, the way she’d left for the hospital with hurried words and trembling hands. Why had she gone? Was she truly in danger?
