The howl comes again.
It cuts through the trees like something alive and sharp, something that does not belong in a world of wolves and mortals. The sound is heavier now, closer, pressing against the clearing like a hand dragging its nails across my mind. My breath falters. A tremor runs through me before I can stop it.
My hands shake.
I try to hide it by curling my fingers into fists, but the tremor refuses to obey. My pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out the fading echoes of the howl. I feel as if the earth beneath me is tilting. The sickness running through the rogues reacts to the sound. So do I.
Adam notices instantly.
His entire body responds to my fear before his mind catches up. His posture snaps tight and then he moves, fast and instinctive, stepping in front of me with a
