Raven's POV
The house was small but, in a way, cozy. For one, it was completely mine—somewhere I could be alone, a rare thing within a pack. The bed was uncomfortable, the thin straw mattress uneven beneath the worn sheets, but even then, I couldn't bring myself to complain the moment I opened my eyes.
Slowly, I scrambled off the bed and immediately got dressed, pulling on the simple, rough-spun clothes that marked my place here. I did my best to ignore the biting hunger in my stomach as I stepped out through the door.
The darkness in the sky had barely cleared, a pale grey dawn creeping over the land, but already most werewolves were up and about. Mostly those around the kitchen building, carrying firewood and buckets of water back and forth, their movements swift and practiced, the scent of smoke and damp earth lingering in the cold morning air.
