When Daniella first met Mya, she'd reminded her of a wolf: big, fluffy, and able to bite your head off in less than ten seconds. But after she'd gotten to know her, she understood it was just her outer shell. Daniella had always suspected Mya used it to protect herself, although she'd never quite figured out why. Now it made more sense.
Mya had lived through periods of times where women were believed to be worthless, where they needed to dress and behave in ways that modern women found demeaning. Daniella had a new-found respect for Mya and her strength. That strength was admirable, and an inspiration for what she desperately needed to maintain, a semblance of balance right now to keep her grief at bay.
"On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you at me?" Mya called out before Daniella e
