SWINDON, APRIL 30th, 1872
I stand there, my body frozen in shock. I am unable to move, unable to speak, unable to react in any way. All I can do is watch with wide eyes as the scene in front of me unfolds.
My aunt doesn’t seem afraid at all. She is staring at Ezra in his wolf form with the same hateful expression, her eyes narrowed at him. The wolf is baring his teeth to her, growling lowly in a warning manner. I find myself barely able to breathe. I don’t want to see this, but at the same time, I can’t look away.
“I should have known you wouldn’t yield,” I hear my aunt speak with the same cold voice she used with me. I don’t know what they have been talking about before, which makes me feel lost. I have no idea what this is about, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.
