Painter Of The Night Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

The chapter that had started when I was six years old would end tomorrow in a room I had chosen to be present for. I placed my hand to the window glass. Cold and solid. The glass between me and the night air and the silver hills and the territory that was mine and that was genuinely, completely, immovably mine. Tomorrow the chapter ended. And what came after belonged entirely to the next one. I went back to bed. Lucas reached for my hand in his sleep with the specific instinct of a wolf who knows where their mate is at all times and registers return. I held his hand in the dark and my wolf settled and the night continued.