Serena sat perched on the window sill, brushing through her hair with slow, thoughtful strokes. The bristles tugged gently at the ends, smoothing away sleep from her eyes. She sighed and looked at the early morning sun rising in the sky. A few people paraded the grounds, she assumed they were guards of the castle.
She pressed the wooden brush beneath her chin, eyes narrowing slightly. There were too few people for a place this grand. The castle puzzled her. It seemed like overkill for werewolves, and Darius was always cooped up in here.
It was so high and massive, almost impenetrable. For a pack that seemed to hold the arts in high esteem, it was very closed off, as if bound by iron chains.
A breeze swept in through the window, tugging playfully at her nightgown and lifting the hem to her knee. She shivered, then gave her hair one last pass before hopping down from the sill. The stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet.
