Chapter Seven
*Mila*
“I’m not going.”
“Mila, please,” my mother sighs, exasperated. “Can you not fight me on this? You’re going to the mating ceremony and that’s final.”
She barged into my room a moment ago in a tizzy, excited beyond belief for the mating ceremony tonight that I absolutely am not going to attend. I’m sitting at my vanity doing my makeup. I’m wearing a pair of suede bell bottom pants that fit just right and a leopard print cropped camisole in preparation of a girls night with my friend, Beth. My long hair falls in tendrils past my chest, with the crown of my hair perfectly done into a French braid. Right before my mother came in, I was contemplating telling Beth about the wolf at the party. I think I’ve been clinging to that to desperately avoid thinking about my parent
