Isolde is quiet beside me as we walk into the forest. There isn’t a single animal in sight yet and air between us is gentle.
“Mother loved the forest,” she finally says.
“And you?” I glance at her.
“She made me love it,” she smiles. “She talked about having a home with me, far from the pack and its suffering, surrounded by beautiful flowers and animals.” She gazes at the sky. “Birds chirping, crickets, and the sound of soft trees dancing.”
She must have loved her mother so much. “How come you never told me about her?”
She stops. “You… hate me.”
My throat bobs. “I’m not that cruel. I hate the knowledge of women and children being tortured or abused.”
She frowns. “You do?”
“You think I don’t?”
“Well…” Her mouth opens and closes. “People said you sell women and children
