Tremor in the Shadows
The wind changed before dawn.
I felt it in my bones first — a deep, sick tremor that rolled through the forest like a heartbeat gone wrong. The air tasted of iron and smoke. Even the shadows stirred restlessly, whispering warnings I couldn’t understand.
Louis slept fitfully beside the dying fire, his fever finally broken. His breathing was steady, his color returning. But I couldn’t rest. The unease in my chest grew stronger with each passing moment, the mark on my palm pulsing painfully.
Something was wrong.
I rose quietly, stepping to the edge of the ridge. The sky above was bruised with the fading remnants of night, but the moon still glowed blood-red through a veil of clouds. My wolf shifted uneasily inside me.
Do you feel that? I whispered.
Yes, she answer
