The pack house didn't feel calmer after the runner was dragged away. It felt narrower.
Not in the sense that walls had moved, but in the way Sable's senses kept finding edges. The corridor seemed to hold sound longer, the damp stone holding scent more stubbornly after the rain, and even the lantern light looked harsher against corners where someone could stand unseen. She had lived most of her life as a wolf other people pretended not to notice, and she had learned how to survive by reading what wasn't said. Now she was being watched in the opposite direction, not overlooked but tracked, and that felt worse in a way she hadn't expected.
