The Forbidden Forest
~VINA HALE~
If there was ever a time to regret not being a strong, independent Lycan warrior from birth, it’s while crawling through a waste tunnel that smells like the collective digestive failures of five hundred werewolves.
Note to the Moon Goddess: ‘Seriously? A sewer? This is how my grand escape began? You couldn’t have given me a secret passage through a library or a hidden garden? No, it had to be the tunnel where the laundry water and the kitchen scraps go to die.’
I was currently knee-deep in gray, lukewarm water that I refused to think about too hard.
My rucksack was held over my head like a holy relic, and my boots—the ones with the hole in the toe—were squelching in a way that was probably going to haunt my dreams for a decade.
But as the iron grate
