Grace
The snow had stopped falling by the time she opened her eyes.
For a moment, Grace didn’t know where she was. The air smelled of smoke and pine resin, faintly metallic, tinged with blood. The ceiling above her was rough stone veined with silver light, and a small fire crackled nearby, throwing uneven shadows across the cave walls.
Memory came in fragments—the roar of the wolves, the river’s thunder, Kaleb’s body shielding hers as claws and teeth tore through the dark. She sat up too quickly, the world spinning around her. Pain lanced through her shoulder where something had grazed her in the fight.
“Easy.”
Kaleb’s voice pulled her back to the present. He sat on the other side of the fire, bare-chested, the torn remains of his shirt lying beside him. New bandages crossed his torso
