Serena prayed within herself that she wouldn't fall off another horse again. At this moment in time, she had no clue where she was riding to. She laughed dryly at the absurdity of it all, she had just ridden off into the night as though she knew Ironshade like the back of her hand. This was no Silverstone. She had barely mapped out the castle, let alone the lands that sprawled beyond its gates.
The wind tangled in her hair, whispering secrets she could not understand. The trees on either side of the road looked the same, bare-limbed and silvered under the moonlight. Her breath caught on the cold, and the reins stung her fingers from how tightly she clutched them.
"This is foolish," she muttered aloud.
And yet, she did not stop. Somewhere within her, Feyra stirred.
You're not lost, came the gentle voice of her wolf-spirit. You are simply waiting to be guided.
