Nevara
By morning, the claw marks were still there.
I stared at them from the porch, fingers wrapped tight around my mug, watching the light catch on the torn wood. Whatever had come close the night before hadn’t tried to force its way inside. It had just… observed. Left a message. A warning.
Or maybe a promise.
I took a long sip of coffee and glanced toward the edge of the forest. Still quiet. Still pretending to be harmless. But I’d felt it watching. Felt them circling.
And something else.
That second presence—the one I couldn’t name—still lingered in the back of my mind. Not quite danger, not quite safe. Just… waiting. Like it knew I’d feel it and wanted me to.
I exhaled through my nose and turned toward the garden shed. Time to get ahead of it all. If the woods were going to tur
