MEL
With the wind whipping around us harder and snow falling heavier, Delilah and I returned to the packhouse. We stopped and shifted by the tree line. Pulling on the damp, cold clothes that we had neglectfully tossed aside when shifting, we hurried back to the warmth of the packhouse.
“I need a shower,” I said as we ascended the stairs, teeth chattering slightly.
“Are you sore or anything?” Delilah asked.
“Surprisingly, no. I feel fine,” I told her. We played in the snow for hours. Our wolves ran around, chasing each other while we relented control.
When we got up to our room, we both headed straight to the bathroom. Delilah turned the water on to warm as we started to shed clothes. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I stilled.
“What’s wrong?” Delilah asked.
“Is it… the mark…
