Elara POV:
We don’t speak before we run, and the silence between us isn’t empty so much as it’s understood.
Caelan doesn’t look back to check if I’m ready, and he doesn’t need to, because he turns toward the trees with the certainty of someone who assumes I’ll be there, and I am. I’m already moving, my body answering the pull before my mind fully catches up.
The packhouse falls away behind us in a rush of stone and shadow, gravel snapping beneath my feet for a few strides before the ground softens into the forest that feels damp and springy, familiar as breath. Dawn hasn’t fully broken yet, only a thin wash of light threading through the branches, the sky still caught between night and morning.
We stay in human form, fast and hard, and Caelan sets a pace that would punish most wolves,
