a's

. I listen to sounds. Most of the time, I hear nothing. Sometimes I hear water dripping

me I saw the sun. I simply cannot. Its warmth is a ghost in my mind. I try t

h one is a day, or maybe a night. I lose count. I start again. My stomach hurts. I am hungry all the time. The

Lila and I used to steal honey from Old Mara's kitchen. We would laugh, our

d the moon. "The moon binds us," she said. "It calls our blood." She left to help a scout wounded in a rogue attack like she always did when the pack neede

and fierce. She calls my name, Lyra, her voice despe

to call my wolf. She is quiet, deep inside me. She

t I lose track. Sometimes I talk to myself, my voice hoarse. I talk to my wolf. I talk to th

er face pale in the dim light. She moves fast, closing the door behind her. She kneels beside me, her brea

its crust is tough but soft inside. I drink the water,

yone believes Lila's lies," she whispers. "Some st

I ask, my voice small. Mira shakes her head, her lips tight. "No one knows. Some say she is comin

my throat. Leah is out the

There is a mark on it-a crescent moon, stitched in silver thread. I know it fro

t. I do not know who." I close my fist around the cloth, my heart pou

villages beyond the forest. They come at night, leaving things behind-animal bones, carved with strange marks, like warnings. Some think it is a curse.

ut fierce. But fear follows, cold and sharp. The Pure. I heard stories as a child, tales of human

," she says. "Some say the elders are hiding something, a prophecy

ophecy? My sister's face flashes

ll. "I have to go," she whispers. "They will n

otsteps fading. The darkness c

think about my mother and her stories of the moo

is still there, weak but alive. I whisper, "Do not leave me."I try to shift. I close my eyes. I reach for my wolf. Pain goes through me, like fire in

, "I am s

r mark on the wall

for the

art a fire. I will hold on to m