His breath fogged the air.
The stream still gurgled beside him.
He was back.
But something was… different.
He could hear the heartbeat of a squirrel two trees away. Smell the rot of a buried fox beneath the snow. Every sound was too sharp. Every scent too vivid.
His fingers curled into the cold dirt.
Then—
A voice.
"Well, that was dramatic."
Ronan froze.
The voice wasn't just in his head—it was his head. His bones. His blood.
"'I didn't know what you were,'" the voice echoed in a theatrical whine. "Pfft. You sound like a soap opera side character. Gods, how did I get sealed in someone like you?"
Ronan blinked. "What…?"
"Finally awake and this is the package I get stuck with? No offense, but you've got all the spine of a wet napkin. He trashed you like bad takeout. I've seen possums put up more of a fight."
"…Stop. Stop—what are you?"
"I am the wolf, sunshine. The original. The nightmare. The snarky voice in your head with a thirst for blood and a serious protein deficiency. And congrats—you finally cracked the seal. Took you long enough."
"Stop… please, just stop."
Ronan sat up slowly, heart thudding like a drum in his chest.
"I thought wolves were supposed to be instinctual. Primal."
"Oh, I'm plenty primal. I just happen to have a sparkling personality and centuries of repressed sarcasm. You've got no idea what it's like being locked inside your emotional basement for nineteen years. I'm practically feral."
Ronan rubbed his temples.
"Gods help me."
"Spoiler: they won't. But I might—assuming you don't freeze to death first. You've got maybe an hour before your nuts turn into ice cubes, and no offense, but we're already low on dignity."
Ronan exhaled—half laugh, half disbelief.
Whatever was happening… it was real.
And whatever this thing inside him was—it wasn't just some animal spirit.
It was awake now.
And it had opinions.
"Buckle up, pup," the voice said. "We're about to get un-exiled in the rudest way possible."