WILLOW'S POV.
It happened exactly as I already knew it would.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
No matter how many times I turned on the bed or stared at the ceiling, my mind refused to quiet down. The room they’d given us was beautiful—high ceilings, dark walls, silk curtains that fluttered with the night breeze—but it felt too still. Too foreign. Too uncomfortable.
I slipped out of bed, pulled on a light robe, and stepped outside. The corridors were quiet, the kind of silence that made every step sound louder than it should. I followed the soft glow of lights until I found myself in the yard.
The moon was full and bright, hanging over Obsidian Crescent like a watchful eye. Even the wind here felt different, carrying whispers from the mountains that surrounded the pack lands.
My thoughts wouldn’
