Two years.
Two years of training. Fighting. Learning to be something other than the broken child who'd stumbled into Mira's cabin.
Selene was nearly thirteen now. Taller. Leaner. Her body carved into muscle by endless practice. Her hands calloused and scarred.
She could shift at will now. Could fight in human or wolf form. Could track prey through the forest, move without sound, kill without hesitation.
At least in practice. With deer. With targets.
She hadn't killed a person yet. Didn't know if she could when the moment came.
But she was ready to try.
Autumn had come to the forest. Leaves turning gold and red. The air sharp with approaching cold.
Selene was splitting firewood behind the cabin when she caught it.
A scent.
Familiar. Almost forgotten. But burned into her memory from childhood.
Alaric.
Her head snapped up. The axe forgotten in her hands.
He was coming. Through the forest. Moving toward the cabin.
