She misses the way it felt to have the wind under her wings sometimes, the ability to move freely. A hawk may fly where she pleases, whereas a woman - a woman is more restricted in her movements.
She remembers what it felt like to hunt, to be sleek and elegant and deadly. She knows Etienne would protect her now, will protect her now - that he would both kill and die for her, if needed, but that, too, is different. It is a power outside of her.
She still feels something stir in her at the sight of dawn, of the night dying and being eclipsed by the day. It no longer changes her. It no longer changes Etienne - and that, she tells herself, is surely a blessing, something to rejoice over.
“Teach me,” she tells him, orders him, almost, as if he were her wolf still. “Teach me the sword. Teach me how to defend myself.”
He looks at her, and she wonders what he sees. “Yes,” he says. “I will. As you wish it.”