#Harper
The dirt under my nails has officially reached “witchy chic” levels, which is hilarious considering I’m still trying very hard not to be one.
The morning started fine. The air was nice and cool and the sun was shining. Clawed is stalking a moth with all the seriousness of a small orange warlord. I’d done laps at training with Thorne earlier and managed not to eat the ground in front of the whole pack, so that is progress, I told myself I’d reward my survival with something soothing.
Gardening. My new personality trait. Look at me, it is all about character development.
I tugged on Moira’s old canvas gloves, grabbed the basket, and stepped into the garden bed. The cottage’s expanded interior still made my brain hiccup every time I walked through it (spatial folding charm = witch
