The first of them arrives before the sun does.
I'm awake, sitting on the stone steps outside Maera's shelter, staring at a sky that can't decide whether it wants to be night or morning. The Mark beneath my skin hums faintly, not restless, listening.
My wolf lifts her head. "Someone's coming."
I don't need her to tell me.
The sanctuary breathes differently when a stranger steps across its boundary.
Footsteps crunch softly against the path of glowing stone. I turn just in time to see a boy, no more than fourteen, standing at the edge of the valley.
He's thin. Dirty. Exhausted.
And glowing.
Not brightly. Not proudly.
Just enough to give him away.
He clutches a torn satchel to his chest like it's the only thing tethering him to the world. His eyes are wide, darting, searching for somewhere to run.
I stand.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I don't want to scare him.
My Mark flares softly in response to his presence, a low golden pulse that makes him gasp.
He stumbles back a step.
