Ridge

It’s been a while since I last ran—the full-out sprint of a wolf with a mission or a wolf at play, sprinting through the mountains as if every hill is a racetrack.

It’s a freeing kind of run, cosmic and powerful.

When I’m on patrol, I keep my steps measured and even. It’s too easy to let the landscape slide by without seeing potential threats if you don’t stop and smell the fucking roses, as my father used to say.

My paws thud against the ground and the cool mountain wind whips past my ears. Archer and Trystan flank me, their keen gazes aware of our surroundings even as...