Chapter 8: The Wolf Wakes

The healer had given me a purge draught after Dalton left, a bitter green drink that tasted of pine needles.

"It will clear what's left in the blood," she said. "Tonight or tomorrow, you may feel things you haven't felt before. Don't be afraid of them."

I wasn't afraid.

I was too tired to be afraid of anything.

At two in the morning I woke on the floor beside the bed, and I didn't remember getting down.

Every bone in my body was burning.

It started in my spine and ran out along my arms, and my skin felt too small.

I pushed up on my hands and my fingers wouldn't straighten.

"Healer," I tried to say, and what came out was a low sound I had never made.

The door crashed open.

Torren was there in a black shirt, barefoot, with his hair on end.

He took one look at me and dropped to his knees on the carpet.

"It's all right," he said. "Miriam, look at me. It's happening. It's your wolf."

"It hurts," I said.

"I know. It's supposed to. Fourteen years of poison is leaving all at once. Don't fight her. Let her through."

"I don't know how."

"You don't have to," he said. "She does."

Another wave went through me, and my back arched.

I heard something crack.

It should have been terrifying.

Instead, somewhere deep in my chest, something stretched and opened and breathed, and I felt her.

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