I woke to a pained yip. Rolf lay on the floor in wolf form, legs twitching, whimpers escaping from his muzzle.
I sat up, ready to swing down and wake him, when an arm wrapped around my waist. I opened my mouth to scream, and a hand covered it.
“It’s me, little one,” Thorbjorn murmured. “Don’t cry out.”
I nodded and he took his hand away.
“We should wake him,” I whispered. The wolf made pathetic sounds, claws scrabbling on the floor. “He’s having a nightmare.”
“More than a nightmare. He dreams of when he was with the witch.”
A whine broke from Rolf, slicing my heart. “What did she do to him?”
“Many things,” Thorbjorn left the bed. “Evil things. But you are never to approach him when he is like this. It is not safe.”
He waited for my nod, then crouched beside the wolf, putting a hand
