Morning should have eased into me.
Instead, I wake already alert, eyes snapping open before my thoughts catch up. My heart is steady, not racing, which is almost worse. This is not panic. This is readiness. The kind that settles into bone before reason has time to argue.
My wolf is restless beneath my skin, pacing in tight circles like it heard something my human side missed. Not frantic. Focused. Alert in a way that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with territory. The cabin is quiet. Sunlight spills through the windows in clean, ordinary lines. Dust floats lazily in the air. The kettle sits cold on the stove where I left it last night. My jacket hangs over the back of the chair. My boots are right where I kicked them off.
Everything looks normal.
That does not matter.
