The morning after the Moon Festival, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that followed me.
The warmth in my chest was still there.
Faint.
Gentle.
Like the last glow of a dying fire.
I had hardly slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the silver wolf standing between the trees, watching me with kind, ancient eyes.
When dawn finally arrived, I climbed down from my attic room and quietly made my way to the kitchen.
Mother barely looked at me.
“You’re late.”
I glanced at the clock.
I wasn’t.
“I’m sorry.”
She pointed toward a pile of laundry.
“Take these to the river. Wash every piece before noon.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I lifted the heavy basket and left before anyone else could speak.
The forest was peaceful.
Golden sunlight filtered through the tall pines, and birds sang high a
