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ELEVEN | WOLF TO WOLF
Atticus
There was a knock at the door.Sighing, Atticus stretched his long legs out under the table. His office was smaller than his father’s, and he’d filled the shelves and surfaces with books – books on strategy, books on war – and rolled-up parchments that he’d pull out when a meeting was boring him, flicking idly through the reams of paper to drown out anecdotes of past pack negotiations. Still, the room stretched before him as the unexpected knock startled him from his thoughts.
He’d been thinking about her. About Lily. About her scowl, and the wicked way her brown eyes would narrow at him. The glint of sunlight streaking across the floorboards and wooden desk had reminded him of how such light would make her hair shine golden-red in places; in turn, his mind had drifted to the way she’d flick her braid over her shoulder, both coy
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