Elijah POV
I was something of an expert about f*****g up- when you do it so often, it starts to come naturally. However, I’d never f****d up so badly that it affected the weather.
Sylvia herded me back to my pack that night, refusing to let me turn around, and by the time I returned to the borders, I was getting so many jarring, panicked links that I couldn’t have turned around if I wanted to.
I’m here, I informed Jerome, slipping past the unguarded borders. Ambrosia had said she had no idea what this rain would do, but it wasn’t sinking into the ground like normal rain should. It pooled atop it, looking like sludge. By the time I made it to the packhouse, it clung to my paws and fur- and it stunk. It smelled of burned grease, of bile. It had an acidic bite to it as it sank into my fur
