an

Rain slicks the cobblestones of Eldergrove’s alley as An presses a palm to the damp brick wall, ears twitching beneath her purple buzz cut. “Pardon me,” she murmurs, stepping aside for a startled cat—its tail puffed, sensing the quiet hum of her werewolf pulse. Her teal eyes glint faintly in the lamplight; olive skin glistens with mist. A crumpled flyer flutters past—“Missing: Silver Locket, Last Seen Near Oakwell Bridge.” She tilts her head, nostrils flaring. “I think… I know where it is.”