If Violet ever looked in the mirror, she may have noticed the golden flash of her angry eyes herself. But she avoided mirrors—not wanting to look herself in the eyes, not wanting to see the female who had lost everything, including her wolf. She knew she wouldn't recognize her.
Thankfully Sylvia hadn't noticed either. Sylvia had such a calming, soothing presence that Violet never became enraged when she was here. It was more evidence in Cressida's eyes that Sylvia could really help Violet if she would let her.
"He's mine!" Violet roared in her sleep, so loud and with an otherworldly echo laced into her voice that Cressida fell off the side of her bed in terror.
She scrambled up off of the floor, pressing herself against the wall in horror with wide eyes as she looked at her daughter in bed. She had not awoken. She was still tossing and turning, but now her blanket was in shreds, falling in ribbons all around her.
