The earth did not forgive quickly.
It held the shape of what had happened the way skin holds a scar—quietly, without complaint, refusing to forget.
I stayed there longer than I should have.
Long enough for the cold to settle into my bones.
Long enough for my wolf to stop pacing and simply sit beside the memory of fire.
When I finally stood, the sky had shifted again. Morning had fully arrived, indifferent and pale.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Rhea.
I answered.
“She’s awake,” she said immediately.
The words tightened something in my chest.
“Hannah?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Is she—”
“Alive. In pain. Angry, I assume, based on the nurse’s tone.”
My grip on the phone tightened.
“Is she asking for me?”
A pause.
“No.”
The answer should have been expected.
It still lande
