REBECCA
I don’t know how long, or how far, I ran: I just gave complete control to my wolf, let her do as she pleased, to try to run away from all the loud, incessant thoughts that were shooting through my mind.
All I knew was that after running out of the pack house’s gym and through a blur of green, brown, and blue, I’d broken through a familiar line of trees, ending up in a backyard I knew like the back of my hand.
I was home.
“There is a little wolfie, who’s running all around … all, all around, running all around …”
A little voice rang through the air, along with the rhythmic sound of rusty metal: Paisley was playing on my old swing, singing a nursery rhyme about our race to herself.
There was a soft, delicious smell of cookies in the air: Frances was probably making them fo
