Two wolves dashed through the snow. They were on a steep slope, but the wolves were not concerned. There was no fear. As one bumped into the other’s shoulder, I realized that they were playing with each other, not fighting. They’d gone up into the mountains for fun—or if that wasn’t the purpose, then fun was what they’d found.
I allowed joy to fill me as I thought of how I missed running as my wolf. Then I smiled when the wolf I recognized as Fenris leaned over to nip at the other’s ear before darting away, initiating a game of tag.
I suddenly fell on my butt, realizing I still had the thorny weed in my hand. Surprised, I looked down at it, realizing the roots had shriveled up and died.
Are the good memories helping Lyka fight back?
It wasn’t as if there was anyone I could ask. I glanc
