DYERThe night does not let me rest.

It presses against the den, thick and watchful, as if the forest itself is listening for something to go wrong. I lie still, eyes open, counting breaths that refuse to slow. The ceiling above me feels farther away than it should, the space too large, too empty.

The ache doesn’t fade.

It never does.

I turn onto my side, jaw clenched, and close my eyes harder, as if that might force sleep to take me by surprise.

My beast stirs.

Not restlessly.

Alertly.

My ...