It was no longer easy to fall asleep. It was never calm and gentle, but rather a half-waking, wavering closeness as my mind fed on its suspicions, despite the fatigue that also made me partially choke the air out.

It was the same that evening. My skin was burning, I was in pain, and when I finally slipped into the blank, I found nothing—it wasn't really quiet.

She was the one.

Matilda.

For a very long time, the wolf within me had been a shadow, a ghost that only came to life during ...