The color of fall leaves had turned to the grays and browns that now painted the landscape in a messy, muted winter canvas. The shocks on Morgan’s truck were decent, but still, potholes that had been washed out in the rain threatened to swallow her oversized tires. Around another curve, Dean and Rachel’s house came into view, as beautiful as the first time she’d seen it two months ago. God, it felt like so much longer. Sometimes she felt like the wolf inside of her had always been there--that she’d always been a part of the wolves’ lives. Or perhaps it felt like she’d known this place forever because every moment without Grey dragged on for eternity. A cream-colored wolf with a darker saddle across her back ran through the woods adjacent to the road. Not sprinting, not trotting, but maintaining a speed that kept her beside the truck. Morgan smiled and looked in the rearview to see if Lana had seen Marissa’s wolf. The little girl had her hand pressed against the glass of the window, and a smile curved her plump cheeks.
