The narrow passage she made opens to almost a burrow. The scents smack my nose. Heat. Slick. Blood. Fuck. My wolf licks the matted stems. He howls. He circles the nest, nosing everything, flustered. Upset. It’s been strange lately, his feelings separate from mine, but in this, we’re of one mind. This is wrong. There’s a sense of loss. A memory that floats just out of reach. A word stuck on the tip of our tongue. She was alone here, in pain and need, and where were we?
