28 The Traveler
–
At 17 I lived on a rooftop of a crowded apartment complex, sleeping in a tent.
It was a late autumn night and the chill had a firm grasp on the air. We had a small fire going for warmth with four of us surrounding the fire.
Cece was a traveler. A newcomer. Rare. I clung to her words.
“If you go far south enough, the humans have power. Werewolves don’t like the heat.” Cece took a bite of her meal bar.
“Shut up. Humans are nowhere near the top of command, anywhere.” Shane scuffs his foot against the sandy rooftop. “How do you figure anyway?”
“I came from there.” The fire reflected into Cece’s eyes. I watched the flames dance in her green eyes, eager for more.
After the boys left, it was just Cece and I.
“Is it true?” I asked her. Her hands were braiding my ha
