Dead.
The word reverberated in Tia’s mind like the toll of a distant bell, echoing into the vast silence of the forest. The scream that had torn from her throat had faded, leaving only the suffocating stillness behind. She had expected agony, a swift and brutal end, but there was nothing—no pain, no sharp tearing of flesh. Instead, she felt the weight of the wolf’s massive paws pressing her into the cold earth, the soft fur brushing against her skin like a velvet shroud.
Dead. It was the only explanation that made sense. The wolf had killed her so quickly that she hadn’t even registered the pain. That’s why she could still feel the tickle of fur against her stomach, the warmth of the wolf’s breath fanning her face. It was a phantom sensation, the last remnants of life clinging to her bef
