He lay down.
Not curled up, not comfortable. Just lowered himself to the floor, weight on his haunches, eyes still fixed on me through the glass. Ready to spring at the first sign of threat.
But down. That was something.
"I keep thinking about the children," I continued. "In the story. They just watched their mother leave. They didn't try to stop her. Didn't beg her to stay. Like they understood that she was never really theirs to keep."
Stone's tail twitched. Once.
I talked until my voice went hoarse. About class. About the weather — grey and threatening snow. About the dining hall serving something they called "mystery casserole" that James refused to touch.
When I left, Stone was still lying down.
Progress.
The next morning, I came back before my first class.
He was waiting.
That was the only word for it. Not pacing, not raging. Just standing near the barrier, head turned toward the door, like he'd known I was coming.
Something in my chest loosened.
"Morning," I said, settling into the chair. "I brought coffee. Well, I brought coffee for me. I don't think you'd like it. Do wolves even drink coffee? Probably not."
Stone lay down. Faster this time. Less hesitation.
I talked about nothing. The weather — it had snowed overnight, just a dusting. The oatmeal at breakfast — too thick, slightly burnt. The way Ivy had threatened me when i woke her up too early this morning.
"She's terrifying," I said. "Ivy, I mean. In the best way. She doesn't yell or threaten violence. She just looks at people like she's already planned their downfall and is waiting for the right moment to execute it."
Stone's ear twitched.
"You'd like her, I think. Or hate her. Probably both."
I checked the time. Class in twenty minutes.
"I have to go," I said. "But I'll come back tonight."
Stone didn't respond. Just watched me with those gold eyes that had stopped looking like they wanted to kill me.
I counted that as a win.
I found Cal in the east wing before I left.
He was in his usual spot — curled on the floor outside the room where his packmates were being held. Wolf form, as always. He rarely shifted to human anymore.
"Hey," I said softly, settling down beside him.
His tail moved. Once. Acknowledgment.
"How are they?"
A low sound. Not quite a whine, not quite a growl. Something in between.
Through the observation window, I could see the four ferals. They were huddled together in the far corner of the room — a pile of fur and bones, barely distinguishable from each other. Three of them were asleep, or something close to it. The fourth—
The gray one was watching us.
