Wolf: Mark Ryden

She bit the cherry.

The last thing she saw was the wolf’s amber eyes melting into a smile. The last thing she felt was the velvet floor rising up to meet her, warm and patient as a heartbeat. mark ryden wolf

Lyra returned the next morning. She found Mr. Pembroke sitting in his favorite chair. He was smiling. His eyes were two new amber drops. And curled across his lap, now the size of a pony, was the wolf. Its fur was made of soft, gray smoke. Its claws were polished bone. She bit the cherry