Hope
The wind howls across the forest ridge, lifting the scent of pine and frost into the air. Shadows flicker between the trees as our wolves race through the underbrush, paws striking the earth in a rhythm older than language.
The black wolf lops low to the ground, eyes sharp as she tracks the prey around her. Beside her, a red wolf darts through the underbrush with a leaner, faster gait, tongue lolling as she ran, taking joy from the Hunt as well as having a fierce determination to win by taking down the largest game.
My wolf is confident as the ground pulse beneath her paws. She matches her sister’s stride. My muscles burn, but in a good way. The wild is alive tonight, and so are we.
I glance at Tessa, who shoots me an annoyed look before inclining her head back. I could feel the
