Claire Dane’s POV
I don’t remember falling asleep. One moment, I’m watching the oven light glow like a watchful eye, hands dusted with flour, the smell of sugar and butter clinging to my hair and skin. Next, I’m running.
Snow cracks beneath my feet in my dream, sharp and loud, every breath tearing my lungs open. I can hear it again, that sound that doesn’t belong in the woods- the crack of gunfire. The echo chasing me through trees that blur together. I don’t see the shooter’s face, and suddenly I’m being chased by a wolf- a massive one. I don’t turn around, but I know his pack is close behind him in hot pursuit of me.
My chest is pounding as I run, my lungs filling with the frosty air. I trip over a snow bank and fall heavily, but the snow takes the brunt of it. Without turning around,
