Summer passed in bruises.
Not the kind Catalina tried to hide anymore. These were earned—purple blooms across her ribs, sore shoulders, scraped palms, aching muscles that reminded her every morning that Rosalind Vance had no interest in taking it easy simply because Catalina's life had been turned upside down.
Her body, or her power, had healed every one of them overnight. She hadn't seen her power since she healed Mary.
Three mornings a week, before the sun had fully climbed over the Blue Ridge Mountains, Rosalind was already waiting in the clearing behind her house.
"Again."
It became the word Catalina heard more than any other.
Again.
Again.
Again.
If her stance was wrong...
Again.
If she hesitated...
Again.
If she relied on instinct instead of discipline...
Again.
Rosal
