The Broken Alpha
Sandy dirt stuck to the backs of his teeth.
And then, at last, he opened his eyes. The daylight stung, frigid and weak as it was. Autumn was burning into full bloom in this part of the forest, half the leaves trodden into mulch on the ground and those remaining curling at their edges, crisp and brown.
“The leaves are all wrong,” he rasped, blinking up at the dawn sky, lifting a wobbly hand to shield his eyes. “It’s too soon.”
“Shut up,” said Caslein fondly, toeing him with his leather boot. “Stop waffling about leaves and be glad you’re alive, Elijah.”