Olive’s eyebrows rise so high they disappear under her green bandanna.
“So,” she says, scratching at her bandaged leg. “Norsen tells us not to go into the forest. You—typical Solma—do go into the woods, find a bunch of insect-Whispering kids in a secret glade and now we ain’t allowed to leave.”
Solma bites her lip and six pairs of angry eyes glare at her.
“Yeah,” she says. “That about sums it up.”
Bell rounds on her.
“What’d I tell you, girl?” she snaps. “I warned you! And now look—”
Roseann puts a hand on Bell’s arm and Solma’s aunt huffs but quells.
“Sit down, ‘Bella,” Roseann mutters. Bell throws her a furious look but sits.
They’re around the table at the little house Norsen has appointed them for their (now extended) stay. Mamba and Cobra sit together. Solma and Olive are ne
