I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched, though I don't know how. Maybe by the Headmaster. Maybe by something worse.
The wolf in me is not sleeping tonight.
The moon hangs low, silver-blue and sharp as fresh-cut steel. The mist pools in every hollow, smothers the ground, clings to my boots until my legs go numb. Or maybe that's just the snow. Above, the wind sifts through pine boughs.
Jax is beside me, but not close. He keeps a measured distance—two paces, maybe two and a half, never breaking stride, never crowding. I don’t know if it’s discipline or if he can smell the warning coming off me. Maybe both. He glances my way, gaze green and bright and too clever, reflecting the moon like an accusation.
“North marker should be just past that rise.” His voice is low, nothing in i
