***Rainah***
The fire was a dying ember, its warmth a fragile, flickering thing against the crushing weight of the mountain night. Sawyer sat propped against a jagged outcrop of rock, his face half-swallowed by the shadows. He had been quiet for hours, his gaze fixed on the dancing sparks, but I could feel the restlessness in him—a vibration, like a bowstring pulled too tight.
The pack was asleep, their breathing a soft, rhythmic chorus that filled the ravine. Jaxon and Lila were curled together near the entrance, their presence a silent reminder of the fragility of our truce. But I didn't care about the pack. I didn't care about the Bloodmoon, or the cold, or the hunger. I cared about the man sitting across from me, the man who had spent his entire life hunting the very thing I had beco
