The morning after her encounter with the silver wolf, Lyla woke up with a start. Her heart still raced as though she were in the clearing, standing before the wolf’s glowing crescent. She pressed a hand to her chest, where a faint warmth lingered as if the power coursing through her in the dream had followed her into the waking world.
Throwing on a jacket, Lyla hurried outside. The sun was barely up, casting a golden haze over the forest. She hesitated at the tree line, her feet rooted to the ground. Whatever had happened last night, she couldn’t ignore it.
Eli needed to know.
Lyla found Eli near the creek, his usual sharpening ritual in progress. His movements were deliberate, each scrape of the blade against the stone echoing in the quiet morning air.
“You’re up early,” Eli said with
