My wolf is outside my body.
Not fully. Not physically. She hovers like something made of smoke and moonfire, half spirit and half light, a shimmering silhouette shaped like the creature I am meant to become. She circles me and Adam with slow deliberate movements, every ripple of her form vibrating with fury. The air hums around her. Leaves rise from the ground as if caught in a silent storm.
She is both me and not me. My shadow. My instinct. My truth.
And she is furious.
Adam lies beneath me where the last surge of power forced him down. His back presses into the grass, chest rising too fast, every muscle locked as if he expects my wolf to strike. But she does not strike. She stares at him with white-hot intensity. Her weight is not physical, yet he cannot move. She holds him pinned wi
