The first thing I think when I walk in is that the party is loud. And yet when Rosa leans over to me and says in a normal tone, “do you want a drink?” I can hear her perfectly. I agree without raising my voice and she seems to have no problem hearing me either. I suspect the heightened loudness stems from my newly sharpened wolf senses, since I can hear the conversations around me with greater ease than I had before.
She nods in the direction of a large group of kids from school holding red plastic cups, the picture of teenage rebellion. We start to push through the impromptu dance floor that has formed around the spacious living room. People start to take notice of us, glimmering away in the low party lighting, and shift out of our way. They move in a way that seems almost deferential.
