CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The forest swallows us whole, the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot is a steady rhythm to our silent march. Ford walks ahead, his broad shoulders blocking out the sporadic moonbeams that filter through the dense canopy. I follow close behind, fighting the urge to reach out and brush away the errant twig that's caught in his brown hair.
"Are you sure about this, Ford?" My voice sounds small against the whispering secrets of the trees.
"Positive," he replies without looking back, his tone as firm as the ground beneath us. "There's something about tonight—I can feel it in my bones."
I know he means the full moon. It's a powerful time for us; an enchantment that tugs at our very essence. But there’s also the unspoken tension, the prophecy that gnaws at the edges of our
