Rhydor's POV
I didn't look at her as she walked out. I kept my eyes fixed on the cold stone wall, listening to the soft sound of her footsteps until the door finally clicked shut.
The room felt different the second she was gone. Emptier. It irritated me that I even noticed that the spot where she'd been standing now felt so quiet and still. It was a nagging feeling I didn't want to have.
I finally shifted my focus to my mother. She hadn't moved an inch from the stone platform; she just stood there, staring down at the body.
"Out with it," I said, my voice rough.
She looked up, her eyes heavy. "Something is not right, Rhydor."
"Obviously," I snapped.
"No, I mean..." She shook her head slowly, looking older than she had this morning. "I've lived a long time. I've seen things most wolves only hear about in nightmares. But this? This is new."
That sat in my gut like a cold rock. If my mother didn't know what this was, we were in deeper trouble than I thought.
