Dawn came in thin and gray, the kind of light that warned rather than warmed. The wolves slowed at Grayson’s call, easing from the run toward the center field where witches waited with blankets. Bodies trembled as bones began their slow shift back. Ravyn held the edge of her wolf as long as she could, then let it slide, air punching from her lungs as skin returned.
“Easy,” Grayson said, voice rough, hand steady at her shoulder. Around them, fur sank, paws flattened, ribs heaved. Elders guided yearlings to one knee, coached breaths, kept panic from taking the room. They had done this a hundred times. Today it felt different. The air held a charge that wasn’t the moon.
At the north stones, Cassian stayed where he had been all night. He had not closed his eyes. He had not sat. When Ravyn’s
