The Binding
The Thing That Steps Through
Saxa
Wolves cram into Jana and Tobin’s home, bodies filling every inch of the downstairs. This house isn’t built for meetings. It creaks like it resents all the boots, all the breath, all the voices layered on top of each other. Wolves sit on the arms of chairs, on the floor, leaning against walls, pressed tightly into corners.
No one is relaxed.
They pretend, a little. A joke here, a snort there. But their shoulders tell the truth. Outside, the land is missing a piece. No amount of pretending changes that.
Bab Populer