The forest was alive beneath her paws.
Wind whipped through silver fur as Maisie ran — truly ran — for the first time in what felt like lifetimes. Trees blurred past her in streaks of green and gold. Her lungs burned with clean, wild air. No chains. No collar. No heavy hands pinning her down. Just the thunder of her heartbeat and the powerful flex of muscles that obeyed her completely.
Free.
The word echoed through her mind like a howl. Her wolf form was strong, sleek, unstoppable. She leaped over fallen logs, splashed through a crystal stream, and climbed a rocky outcrop with effortless grace. At the top, she lifted her muzzle to the moon and howled — long, triumphant, alive.
Below her, the pack lands stretched out, but they no longer felt like prison walls. They felt like home.
She
