Fifteen
Ryn leaves me alone in the room with nothing but the echo of a slammed door and Filigree’s twitching squirrel face peeping from the half-open top drawer beside the bed. I flop down into the armchair with a groan. “This is such a mess, Filigree. I need to fix it.” A meow makes me look up. Cat-formed Filigree, black with one white paw, sits in the middle of the bed and watches me. “Are you also angry with me?” I ask. He blinks and flicks an ear. “Well, I’m not quite sure what that means, but I’ll take it as a ‘yes.’ And I’m sorry, Filigree. I really am. I didn’t mean to desert you.”
I tilt my head back and close my eyes. I should go after Ryn and apologize. Perhaps I should give him a little more time, though. I don’t want him to end up shouting at me again. My thoughts turn to Jam
