Jasmin's POV
Fairy tales never appealed to me as a child. While other girls lost themselves in stories of glass slippers and happily ever after, I craved the unknown, the forbidden, the mysteries that lurked in shadows. The unexplained always called to my restless heart.
That autumn day when I was barely ten, another mystery beckoned me forward. But before I could take a single step toward the silver mist swirling between the ancient trees, Mother's strong grip encircled my small wrist.
"Absolutely not, Jasmin." Her voice carried a finality that brooked no argument. "We return to the packhouse. Now."
She shifted into her wolf form, and I nestled deep into her warm fur as she carried me away from the treeline. My curious gaze remained fixed on the mysterious fog that seemed to pulse and beckon like ghostly fingers.
"Why must I stay away when the mist appears, Mama?" The question tumbled from my lips.
