The past few weeks had been a blur of regrouping, bandaging wounds, body and mind, and ever so slowly pushing the pack towards something that seemed vaguely normal again. The threat of the Maker was vanquished, but the wounds were still there like ghosts, silent and resistant.

Celeste had an itchy feeling, even when reassuring pack rhythms resumed. There was tension lurking in the background, unsaid knowledge of something just beyond their grasp.

Hunter, however, seemed notably untouched, ...