“I wasn’t done with my story.”
“Oh, sorry. Please, do continue.” He looked pleased with himself. I told him about the dream I’d had after the witch attacked us. About the foggy forest, and the spirit wolves, and the dark figures lurking in the shadows. He listened quietly, and he furrowed his brows while he nodded along.
“And then the spirit wolf guided me to a woman who was under a tree that had moonbean blossoms growing all over it. She was beautiful, ethereal. Her hair looked like silver thread, and her eyes were bright silver. She was magical.”
“Silver eyes, like yours?”
“My eyes are grey.”
“If you say so.” He raised a brow at me.
“Anyway, she said some stuff about how she’s been waiting for me and how ‘The strings of Fate were woven so our paths would cross.’ It was weird and fe
