werewolves
It faded—like a station slipping under static.
She hugged herself and made the smallest promise she knew how to make.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered to the dark, to no one, to the part of herself that was older than any tent or wall. “I don’t belong to you.”
Behind her, back at the fire, Tom finally found his voice. “Lez… did you see—”
“I saw,” Leslie said, eyes still on the path Jane had taken. Fear and certainty sat side by side in her throat. “And you were wrong about the girl.”
Bab Populer