I wake with clarity instead of dread.
It is the first thing I notice, even before the light shifts through the trees or the cabin settles around me. My mind is quiet. Not empty. Aligned. The kind of stillness that comes after a decision has already been made somewhere deeper than thought, long before language catches up to it.
There is no impulse to check the perimeter immediately. No spike of anticipation that something has changed while I slept. My wolf stretches lazily beneath my skin, uncoiling without urgency, alert but not tense. She takes her time, like a predator who knows the ground is familiar and the moment is not yet ripe.
That tells me enough.
I stay where I am for a few extra breaths, letting the clarity settle instead of rushing to test it. This is not denial. This is ch
