Elowyn tipped the flask against her lips, letting the bitter tang burn her tongue.

She counted the swallows, slow and measured, as if dragging out the courage it carried. The liquid clung to her throat like smoke, masking what she truly was - at least for now.

Outside, a horn split the night.

A ripple of excitement roared through the dormitory.

Boots slammed against stone floors, laughter and howls rising like a pack of wolves scenting prey.

Elowyn seemed to want to stall ...