I woke before the sun.
Drenched in sweat.
Heart pounding like I’d run miles through those woods in my dreams.
But I hadn’t moved.
The sheets were still tucked neatly around me, like I’d barely stirred.
Only the ache in my chest said otherwise.
The image of the wolves—those glowing eyes, that circle of primal attention—clung to my mind like fog.
And me… in the center.
Unmoving.
Unafraid.
Why wasn’t I afraid?
I sat up slowly, the cold air brushing against my damp skin.
The house was silent, but something outside wasn’t.
There it was again.
That sound.
Distant.
Low.
A howl.
I couldn’t tell if it was real or a phantom from my dream, but it settled deep in my bones.
Like it belonged there.
Like I belonged to it.
I stood and walked to the window.
The woods behind our
