The results are in.
The tension in the auditorium is like static. Hell, it's not just like any, but one thick enough to taste. Heidi can practically feel the nervous energy vibrating through the air as she stands in the front row beside Val, Andre, and the boy from Sector Two—the one who talks to plants and once cried over a trampled tulip. The crowd behind them murmurs in restless waves, the kind of anticipation that feels less like celebration and more like a storm brewing over something unfair waiting to happen.
She tries to steady her breathing, clasping her clammy hands together in front of her skirt. Her pulse is out of rhythm. Her wolf hisses in her mind, "You look like you're about to pass out."
"I might," Heidi mutters through a smile that's about as stable as a newborn deer. "If this doesn't go the way it should."
