The room was very quiet.
My wolf: *She's recalculating.*
The whole picture, I said. Not just us. The whole play.
*She's good. She's rebuilding it fast.*
She looked at each of us in sequence. The comprehensive inventory of someone updating a model on the fly.
Her eyes landed on me.
And stayed there.
My wolf unfurled.
Not dramatically — the natural full-presence version of herself, the one that had been present since the break, the one that Corva had told me to let run without management. The warmth of it, the specific certainty of a wolf that had been suppressed for nineteen years and had come through the other side more certain of itself than most wolves managed in a lifetime.
Sera Voss felt it.
I watched her feel it — the fractional shift in her posture, the specific quality of
