Esme
It had been eight weeks since we left the camp. Life had settled into a calmness, which was just what I needed. My stomach had grown to ridiculous proportions. Jackson said it was normal for werewolf pregnancies and that I needed to be aware the baby would come much faster than I would expect. It was a good job, really. If it went on much longer, I would have popped. The downside was that it gave so little time to get used to the idea. I felt so unprepared.
The whole time we had been at the farmhouse, I had stayed hidden. Jackson came and went regularly, mainly to avoid drawing attention to us. When people asked about me, he told them that I was expecting and that it had been a difficult pregnancy. It was enough to evade suspicion. I was still drinking the awful witch’s brew each mo
