The first time it happened, I thought I was just tired.
It was early morning. The sun hadn't fully risen, and Darius had already left to meet with his pack's council. I decided to go for a run, hoping to clear my head.
I shifted easily at first, my wolf stretching inside my skin like she always did, eager for movement. Her paws hit the ground, her nose lifted into the breeze.
But something was wrong.
The scents around me—the fresh pine, the damp earth, the sharp scent of deer in the distance—they all seemed duller, muted like a song played behind a closed door.
I paused, sniffing harder.
Nothing changed.
Panic fluttered in my chest. I shook my head, as if I could throw off the fog clouding my senses, but it clung to me stubbornly.
I tried to run, tried to feel the rush of strength and speed that usually thrilled through my muscles.
Instead, each step felt... heavier.
Less sure.
My paws stumbled against rocks I normally would have danced around without a thought.
