The sanctuary wakes to whispers.
Not the soft, harmless kind that slip through morning air like birdsong, but the sharp, electric kind that carry meaning, weight, and fear. Wolves gather in knots near the lake, voices low, glances cutting toward me and then away again when they think I'm not looking.
Lina is safe.
That should be enough.
But safety doesn't stop stories from spreading.
It doesn't stop symbols from forming.
I sit on the stone steps outside Maera's shelter, knees drawn up, watching the light creep over the valley. The Mark beneath my skin glows faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
My wolf is restless.
"They're changing how they look at us," she murmurs.
"I know," I whisper back.
Behind me, Kade stands quietly, arms folded, pretending to watch the scouts rotate at the ridge. I can feel him there like a steady warmth at my back.
Not pressing.
Not pulling.
Just… there.
And somehow, that makes the weight on my chest heavier.
