DYERThe rain does not stop overnight.

It seeps into the ground, into the stone, into the bones of the den itself, until morning rises damp and heavy with it. I wake before dawn again, not because of duty this time, but because something has shifted, subtle, almost imperceptible, yet impossible to ignore.

My beast is alert.

Not agitated. Not restless.

Focused.

That alone is enough to draw me fully awake.

I sit up slowly, breathing through the lingering ache in my chest, and let my senses extend ...