The Lights of Three: Gold, Silver and Blue
Something raw and genuine flashes across Clover's face, a pain so deep that even Milton, who has spent years deliberately misunderstanding her, can't ignore it.
"Fine," he says after a moment, stepping aside. "Go alone."
Clover doesn't wait for him to change his mind. She brushes past him, the small bundle of wildflowers and her mother's favourite river stones clutched tightly in her hands. The scent of her, lavender, pine, and something uniquely Clover, lingers in the room after she's gone, tormenting Milton's wolf.
Once she's safely down the hall, Milton slams his fist into the wall, leaving a small dent in the plaster. His wolf is furious, not at Clover but at him.
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