His breath fogged the air. The stream still gurgled beside him. He was back. But something was different.
He could hear the heartbeat of a squirrel two trees away. Smell the rot of a buried fox under the snow. Every sound was too clear. Every scent too sharp.
His fingers curled into the dirt.
Then—
A voice.
"Well, that was dramatic."
Ronan froze.
The voice wasn't just in his head—it was his head. His bones. His blood.
"'I didn't choose the bond,'" the voice echoed in a theatrical whine. "Pfft. You sound like a soap opera side character. Gods, how did I get sealed in a guy like you?"
Ronan blinked. "What...?"
"Finally awake and this is the package I get stuck with? No offense, but you've got all the spine of a wet napkin. She dumped you like you were bad takeout, and you just stood there brooding like a Twilight extra."
"…Are you my wolf?"
"I am the wolf, sunshine. The original. The nightmare. The snarky voice in your head with a thirst for blood and a serious protein deficiency. And congratulations—you finally cracked the seal. Took you long enough."
Ronan sat up slowly, heart thudding.
"I thought wolves were instinctual. Primal."
"Oh, I'm plenty primal. I just also happen to have a sparkling personality and centuries of repressed sarcasm. You've got no idea what it's like being locked in your sad little emotional vault for nineteen years. I'm practically feral."
He rubbed his temples.
"Gods help me."
"Spoiler: they won't. But I might. If you don't die of frostbite first. You've got maybe an hour before your nuts turn to ice cubes, and no offense, but we're already short on dignity."
Ronan exhaled, part laugh, part disbelief.
Whatever was happening, it was real. And whatever this thing inside him was—it wasn't the average wolf.
But it was awake now.
And it had opinions.
"Buckle up, pup," the voice said. "We're about to get un-exiled in the rudest way possible."