The Lost Pack
Death was already taking hold when the world exploded in light.
Now, the clearing glows faintly gold and silver, shimmering like a dream that hasn’t faded yet. For a heartbeat, I don’t move.
Maybe I’m not alive. Maybe this is what comes after… the space between worlds that people talk about, where lost wolves walk before the moon calls them home. The air feels too soft, too still. No pain, no breath, just light.
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