There, between the twisted roots of a tree, half-buried in dirt and shredded cloth, was a severed head.

A snarl tore from his throat.

My head.

My vacant eyes stared toward the sky, unblinking. My tangled hair was soaked in blood, fanned out in the dirt. My mouth was open, frozen mid-scream. The wound at my neck was jagged and unmistakable.

I had been devoured.

Torn apart by wild wolves alive.