The corridor outside Donna’s room was growing silent as people who stayed in the packhouse began retiring to their rooms, doors were getting locked and the silence slowly took over.
The kind of silence that settled over the packhouse when even the night guards had grown used to the rhythm of breathing walls and sleeping wolves.
Donna stood still for a long moment with her hand on the door handle, listening.
She had her eyes closed and she was going around the packhouse, with her spirit despite being in one place. She was making sure no one was in the way.
She could feel the pulse of the territory beneath her feet, the familiar hum of woodland magic that had always felt like home. Tonight it felt… watchful.
“I will return before dawn,” she murmured under her breath, as though remin
