June
By the time we start back toward the packhouse, my feet are sore and my head feels full in a way that’s actually kind of nice.
Ashwood Falls bustles with life around us. Pack members move easily along the paths, stopping to talk, trading greetings, carrying on like this place is exactly what it’s meant to be. Sylvie walks at my side, pointing things out and making comments about storefront spacing and traffic flow like she’s planning renovations.
“I’m starving,” she announces. “If we don’t eat soon, I might start biting people.”
Vayda laughs. “Let’s get to the dining hall then. Lunch is starting in about five minutes.”
We turn toward the wide stone staircase that leads back to the packhouse, and my phone rings. I answer without looking, still half-focused on the conversation.
“H
