Raphael's POV
It was cold out. Colder than it had any business being this time of year. Each breath puffed out in front of me like a little cloud as I crossed the pack border, my boots sinking into the damp ground. Didn't even think about shifting into my wolf form; needed to walk, needed some quiet.
The trees stood like silent giants all around, their shadows felt like they were listening in on my thoughts.
For what felt like ages - two years, to be precise - I'd been lugging around the worry of my pack's ever-worsening shape. The warriors looked worn, the hunters came back with less and less game, and the elders just couldn't shake these rattling coughs. After losing the little one, the mood in the pack house just turned plain awful.
Before I knew it, I was on the old trail, my feet
