One evening, Shadow’s jaws closed on a sparrow mid-flight in the garden, before she could intervene. The crunch echoed, leaving Elise pale. She buried the remains, trembling as the golden eyes fixed on her. It wasn’t hunger alone—it was instinct, inescapable and wild. Elise pressed her palms together, whispering, “You’re still mine. I won’t pack you off to a zoo.”
She often found Shadow staring out the window at the forest, tail swishing rhythmically. It longed for something she could never give—a horizon, a hunt, a territory vast enough to match its spirit. Elise whispered, “You belong with me,” but even as she spoke, she doubted it was true.