Outside the borders of the pack, deep in the forest’s shadowy edge, Octavia paced restlessly inside a cave hidden by twisted roots and wild overgrowth.
Her bare feet tapped anxiously against the cool earth, hands trembling as if gripped by confusion and frustration alike.
Something was wrong.
She couldn’t see the girl—me. No matter how many times she’d tried, her visions came up blank. A blur. A void. Something, or someone, was blocking her sight.
With a growl of irritation, she stormed out of the cave and returned moments later, clutching an object wrapped in crimson cloth. Inside, a black feather lay curled like a sleeping snake. Without hesitation, she tossed it into an empty clay pot set atop a small, crackling fire in the center of the room.
The flames flared unnaturally high as
