Aleksasha's breath came slow and measured, but beneath her practiced calm, her senses were razor-sharp. The night pressed in around her, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the crisp tang of early spring clinging to the air. Overhead, the moon hung high, its silver glow broken by the skeletal reach of bare branches. The hush in the forest felt unnatural, the silence stretched too thin, as if the very world held its breath.
Matias had vanished.
The moment unsettled her more than she cared to admit. His presence had loomed at the edges of her awareness, not quite tangible yet impossible to ignore, like the pull of the tide. She had seen the gleam of his silver fur between the trees, had heard the low, guttural growl curling through the underbrush, only for it to dissipate as though swallowed by the night itself.
Damn it.
