Octavia's Point of View
The steam clings to my skin as I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel tightly around me. The hot water soothed my muscles, but it did not do much for my mind. My thoughts are still a storm, wild and relentless, echoing with the officer’s words, with the memory of those wolves slipping through the rain like phantoms.
I dry off quickly and pull on a loose pair of soft pajamas, shorts and a t-shirt that smells faintly of lavender detergent. For a moment, I linger in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look tired, shadowed, but there is something else there too. Worry. Unease. The kind that no amount of sleep will chase away.
When I push open the door and step back into the dorm room, the soft creak of the hinges is enough to stir Clary.
