*tink* *tink* *tink* The usual sound of water dripping on a cold metal pipe. It is a sound I have become so used to, I think I would feel an emptiness without it. The room is cold, dark, and damp. I shiver not just from the cold, but from exhaustion and weakness. I sit huddled with my knees to my chest and my back against the wall, allowing my thoughts to wander. As I rest my forehead against my knees I think about the life I could have had. What kind of person would I have been? Would I have a family? Would I be strong? My name is Kenzie O'Connor. I have been a prisoner for 11 years. And in three days I will meet my wolf.