Chapter 7. Ash and Bone

The forest welcomed her in a hush so profound it swallowed her breath’s rhythm. No wind rattled the branches, no birdsong or rustle of leaves—only a stillness so absolute it pressed against her lungs, erasing each inhalation.

She stood at the edge of a clearing she had visited before, yet never beneath a sky like this: a low, iron slab of cloud that dulled the world, stripped of stars or color. It hovered motionless above the treetops, an immense weight locked in place. The leaves, once eager to tremble at the slightest breeze, lay flat and silent, as though pinned by a giant’s hand.

Beneath her bare feet the earth was damp with something older than rain. Cool moisture seeped up from the soil, carrying the sharp scent of loam and rot. She felt it pulsing through the ground—warm where hidden roots still pulsed with sap, cold where buried clay held its winter grip.

She waited for the wolf. Its presence had been her constant companion, a silent guardian at her back. N