Azura's POV
The quiet was the first thing I noticed.
Not the Wraithfen kind that sat on your chest and breathed with you. This quiet had walls. It had a ceiling and a bed underneath me and the kind of stillness that only existed in places where nothing was trying to kill you.
I opened my eyes.
White lace hung above me from the bed frame, soft and still, and beyond it, the familiar carved ceiling of the pack house caught the morning light. I stared at it for a second. Just let it be real.
I tried to sit up. The back of my neck disagreed immediately, sharp and mean in exactly the spot where Rhydor had hit me. I sat up anyway and pressed my hand against it and waited for it to decide it was done making its point.
Liona was lying beside me on her stomach. Both hands tucked under her jaw, legs raised behind her, feet swinging slowly back and forth in the air like she had been waiting for a while and had found a comfortable way to do it. She was already awake. Already looking at me.
