The snow kept falling as I walked. I did not know where I was going. I just needed to get away from the packhouse, away from my father’s cold stare, away from the pressure building in my chest like something trying to claw its way out.
My feet carried me down the familiar path before my mind could catch up. Trees blurred past me. Wind pressed cold against my cheeks. My wolf paced inside me, not loud, not aggressive, but restless. Sad, even.
When the forest opened up, I stopped.
The frozen lake stretched out before me, still and pale under the moonlight. The surface shone like glass, cracked in faint lines where the cold had shifted it. The air smelled like pine and snow and old memories I had tried very hard to bury.
I walked to the edge and hugged my arms around myself.
This place us
