Tanner opens the window, and the cold breath of the night rushes in, crashing against his skin like a slap from the world he can no longer control.
He leans forward, resting heavily against the frame, and closes his eyes as the wind ghosts over his face, his lashes flutter from the sting of it.
The silence outside is deceptive, a stillness that only sharpens the chaos clawing inside him.
"Where on earth are you?" he whispers, his voice hoarse, cracked from sleeplessness and anguish that refuses to fade.
His spine aches, his shoulders feel like they carry the weight of the entire wolf world.
There are so many things he hasn't processed, so many ghosts screaming in the silence.
He hasn't had the time, or maybe he's been too much of a coward to sit still long enough to grieve what he's lost, or admit what he's done.
The horizon hasn't started glowing yet, but he can tell, dawn is near. Maybe in two hours.
