The moon cleared the trees in full, and the run settled into rhythm.
Ravyn ran in her wolf form at Grayson’s flank. The ground was firm, the air cold, and her lungs worked cleanly for the first time in too long. Fur and muscle did what they were made to do. Her human worries fell back a few paces but did not vanish. They rode behind her eyes, steady, not loud.
The pack moved as one inside the veil. The witches had widened the safe track so two wolves could run shoulder to shoulder and still turn without skidding into the ward-line. Gold light threaded along the stones at the edge, faint as breath, steady as a heartbeat. Witches stood at intervals with palms open, feeding the barrier when it dipped. No one spoke. Paws did the talking.
Grayson cut left toward the slope that held dry needl
