I woke up already tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep fixed. The kind that sat behind my eyes and made the ceiling feel heavier than it should’ve been. I stared at it for a long moment, counting the small cracks I’d memorized over the past few weeks, wondering when exactly my room had started to feel like a holding cell instead of a place to rest.
I knew what day it was.
That was the problem.
Practice day. Again.
I rolled onto my side and checked the time. Still early. Too early. I could afford another ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but I knew better than to give myself that luxury. If I stayed, I’d start thinking too much. And once I started, getting out of bed would feel impossible.
My wolf stirred under my skin, uneasy. Not panicked. Not raging. Just alert. Like it had been since the
