I don’t turn around right away.
The instinct to move is there, sharp and immediate, a flare under my skin that wants me to pivot, square up, bare teeth if necessary. I hold it back and let my breath stay even, measured. One inhale. One slow exhale. The person behind me doesn’t shift. Doesn’t crowd closer. Doesn’t retreat either. They already know I’ve clocked them. That’s part of the point.
“Morning,” I say, casual enough to pass. “You always sneak up on people, or am I special?”
A low chuckle answers me. Familiar. Too familiar. The sound carries memory with it, old meetings, old assessments, a voice that’s asked questions before and always known more than it let on.
“Still sharp,” the voice says. “Good to see.”
I turn then.
It’s a senior wolf. Someone who’s been around long enough t
