Ravyn woke up from sleep the way you do when a dream has been working you over without your permission, blinking into the dark, disoriented, the tail end of it still clinging to the inside of his skull like smoke that hadn't quite cleared.
And the first coherent thought that pulled itself together the moment full consciousness caught up was Voren. Specifically, the version of Voren he'd been on the phone with not long ago, whose whole energy had been sitting wrong from the beginning of the call.
"Voren, what has gotten into you?" He'd asked it genuinely, not as an accusation, but more like a question he was putting out into the open to hear how it sounded. Though it could have been Bloodfang running unchecked again in Voren's mind.
That wolf had a particular habit of riding Voren harder than most wolves rode their humans, and the warning signs were familiar enough by now that Ravyn could recognize them even half-asleep, and even from the other end of a phone call.
