Her fingers gripped the glass so tightly her knuckles whitened, but it was the only thing grounding her in the moment. If she didn’t do something soon, if she didn’t say something, she might actually explode from the weight of it all.
She set the glass down and stood up, pacing the room. She glanced at the paper occasionally, trying to make sense of it. She couldn't run. Not again.
Muttering to herself, she tried to process the prophecy. “A gift of the Moon shall walk among beast and man, Born to the night, so a werewolf, yes, I'm one of those. Under the Strawberry Moon, they shall awaken, also true…”
She felt their eyes on her but ignored them. She couldn't think about that.
“By fur that reflects the silvered sky, does that mean white? Why does everyone assume white? Maybe that means
