De Pro-Techie
Well-rounded Techie
The Cursed Blood Novel SynopsisMidwinter I ran the perimeter three times before the feast started,
because the alternative was standing in the longhouse while sixty wolves pretended the air didn't taste different when I walked in.
The snow was knee-deep in the upper meadow, shallower under the old-growth cedar where the canopy held.
My wolf covered ground fast. Too fast, probably, burning off anxiety I'd never admit to in human form.
Cold pressed against my ribs with every inhale, sharp enough that breath came out in white shocks.
The forest held no sound but my own paws hitting frozen ground. I'd been doing this for three weeks.
Ever since my eighteenth birthday, when my first shift cracked open whatever
had been sleeping in my blood and released a scent the pack couldn't name but couldn't ignore.
Three weeks of dawn patrol. Not assigned, just there, at the eastern boundary where the territory
dropped into the gorge and the wind came up smelling of ice and stone.
Nobody told me to stop. Nobody asked me to join the regular rotation either.
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