Alexander woke to the scent of summer rain on old wood. His mind resisted the intrusion of awareness, clinging to the warm void of sleep. He had never felt so tired, every muscle in his body ached like he had run for days before collapsing.
For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. Then, like floodgates bursting, the memories came: the rogue, the bite, the pain, the endless, suffocating pull of darkness. The forest had grown thick, oppressive. Every step had been agony. And then, Tina. The healer. The last living Lycan.
He blinked slowly, taking in the dim, golden light of early dawn filtering through half-shuttered windows. The cabin smelled of pine, herbs, and faint woodsmoke. Quiet magic threaded the air. He could feel it humming low in his chest, like a second heartbeat.
He reached inward.
Max?
His wolf stirred groggily, the bond between them still strong, still intact.
Let's not do that again, Max muttered.
Agreed, Alexander replied. You okay?
