Willow
I can’t believe I’m just one registration away from competing in the triathlon. Soon, the phoenix tears will be mine, and my mom will finally be able to live forever.
Smiling, I walk up to the registration booth.
“Name?” the lady in charge of registering participants asks, not looking up from her clipboard.
“Willow,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. She scans the list, then looks up at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Ah, Willow, the werewolf hybrid,” she says, her voice tinged with doubt. “There’s an admission test, you know. A race you need to finish before you can register.”
I fold up my sleeves, determination coursing through my veins. “No problem!”
“Very well,” she replies, finally cracking a small smile. “It’s over there by the lake. When you’re done, return here with
