When dawn crept in, Nyra’s first sensation wasn’t warmth. It was laughter—but not the cozy kind you hear from friends or kids playing in the village. This laughter felt like shards of glass. Mean. Designed to cut.
She blinked herself awake, confused for a second. The chill under her reminded her where she’d slept. Memories flickered: exile, judgment, that endless walk away from everything familiar. Those golden eyes from last night were still stamped into her mind. Fear chased her, but exhaustion had knocked her out first.
Now morning light slipped through the leaves above. Every muscle in her body screamed. Inside, her wolf was quiet—not gone, just licking its wounds, hiding.
Hesitant, Nyra pushed herself up and looked toward Moonfang territory. Home. The word felt wrong now, like it b
