Lyra
The woods are much colder than I remember when I return, Ivy in tour. The wind cut through my cloak as Ivy and I followed the path to the latest crime scene. The late evening air was cold but instead of rubbing my arms for warmth, I let the icy breeze bite into my skin. The cold wind touched my cheeks, and I inhaled slowly.
We find a few pack warriors standing around in a small circle, looking down, their expressions grim. Xavier is at the center, crouched down beside something on the ground. Cain stood beside him. Xavier’s eyes sharpen when they narrow on Ivy and I as we walk up to the group.
“What are you doing here?” he growls.
“I came with Ivy.”
“I told you to stay inside.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?” he asks, obvious anger radiating off him in waves.
I crossed
