Aurora Dawn Hale woke before the sun.
She often did.
There was something about the moments just before light broke across the horizon that felt like home to her—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for her to step into it. The air was cool, dew clinging to the grass outside her window, the sky painted in bruised violets and pale golds.
She lay still for a moment, hand resting over her heart.
Solara stirred.
You’re awake early, her wolf murmured, voice warm and bright inside Aurora’s mind.
Aurora smiled faintly. You say that like it’s a surprise.
Solara huffed, a sound like sunlight brushing leaves. You always wake before the dawn. You are predictable.
Aurora swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching as the pack house slowly came to life around her. Distant foots
