Stevie

I lean back against the cool stone of the overlook and tip my face up toward the sky, letting the thin autumn sun warm my cheeks. The clouds move slow today, stretched and lazy, like they don’t know a war is coming. Like the world isn’t holding its breath.

Below me, in the training yard, Sky stands awkwardly among a cluster of kids his age. Teenagers, technically. Almost-grown wolves with too-long limbs and too-loud voices. He doesn’t quite fit the circle they’ve formed. He never does.

They're enamored with him though, in awe of how he stood with the warriors to fight.

Curious.

He keeps his hands shoved into...