The conversation around the table rose and fell naturally, drifting from one topic to another while plates gradually emptied and wolves continued moving through the dining hall around us. Somewhere behind me, one of the younger children shrieked with laughter before immediately being shushed by an exhausted parent.
"You’re doing it." I looked up, pulled back to the conversation by an amused voice.
Sarah was watching me from across the table, one elbow resting against the wood while she pointed her fork in my direction.
"What?"
"That thing."
"Helpful."
"The disappearing."
Beside me, Will immediately sat up straighter. "There. See? I told you."
Sarah nodded. "She does it constantly."
"I don't do anything constantly,” I argued, leaning back into the chair.
"You absolutely do,” Will
