11. Daughter of Rosalie
11 Daughter of Rosalie The screams from the red tent didn’t stop for hours. Loblolly, the bright white centaur they had spent so much time with during the fall, came to make sure they had enough to eat. He was limping and looked exhausted. With a few words, a new tent appeared for them, covering the torn one. “Sleep well, Grays,” Loblolly said before disappearing into the night. The inside of the tent was bare―no beds or blankets―like the ones the centaurs slept in. “Better than nothing,” Connor said, moving to curl up on the ground. “Wait.” Emilia pressed her palm to the tattered tent beneath them. “Alavarus.” The canvas warmed under her hand. “That’s a new one.” Claire stretched out like a snow angel on the ground. “How come you never used that when you were here before?” “It’s f
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