My head felt like someone had filled it with rocks and shaken it hard.
A dull, heavy pain throbbed behind my eyes. My mouth tasted bitter like bitter chocolate. I tried to move, but my arms wouldn’t listen. Something rough and tight bit into my wrists. Rope. Thick rope.
I blinked slowly. The world swam into focus.
I was sitting in an old wooden chair, hands tied behind my back, ankles bound to the legs.
The room was dim, lit only by a single hanging bulb that swung gently, throwing long, creepy shadows on the walls.
Dust floated in the weak light. The air smelled of wet fur, old hay, and something sharp like the scent of wolves after a long training day.
Broken wooden barriers lined one wall, the kind used to keep young wolves in line during practice fights. Chains hung from the c
