He is nothing but a man of routine.

Of habits that had very little intention of ever changing, even in another lifetime, it seemed.

Raelan had woken just as the sun did, as he often did, and had made his way out into the courtyard to begin his usual rituals. A stretch first, to loosen the muscles that were often weary with the effects of sleep. A yawn then, to wake his mind from the dreams he tried to keep at bay, and then a long inhale of the clean, mountainous, sea-bitten air that would signal to his body that he was awake and ready for the day’s lengthy duties.

It had been the same as when he was a man, and it was the same, even now, as a wolf.

Yet, what he had not prepared for was the friendly sound of another behind him; one that carried a burning oakwood scent.

The Lord Commander turned his head, glancing once at the man of white who approached—his words kind and thoughtful as Raelan’s head dipped to a nod before his gaze trailed toward the sky.

She is, he agreed, watching as the colors of dawn slowly bled life into the horizon ahead. Not many are able to appreciate the beauty of the dawn, he started, his tail swaying idly at his ankles. Not many are awake.

A brow rose as he glanced back at the man. You are certainly up early.