Veyra’s POV
The gate looms ahead, tall and braced with thick steel, but I don't slow down. My blood pounds in my ears, fury roaring through my limbs like wildfire. I feel my bones shift before I even reach it. My skin ripples, muscles contorting, and in the blink of an eye I'm no longer on two feet.
My paws hit the ground hard, my claws carving into the dirt as I sprint. The clothes I wore falls away behind me like discarded skin. My wolf is unleashed and she doesn't hesitate. She's rage and justice and fire. She knows what I saw, and she knows what must be done.
I leap through the open gate, barely aware of the guards shouting behind me. Their voices fade the moment my nose catches Caelan’s scent. It coils around the trees like a trail of smoke, thick and pungent with blood and heat. I run faster, my breath sharp in my lungs, my body flying through underbrush and broken roots.
Then I hear it.
A scream. Shrill and ragged and close.
I veer sharply to the left, paws tearing up the earth
