Hunting for our Mate
Not talk, not deal with everything that had just happened.
But before I got the nerve to speak, Atalanta did.
“You are mad at me.”
“A tiny bit.”
“I’m sorry.”
I sighed, kissing the top of her wet hair. “I know.” I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and began washing her hair. She had so much less hair now, and there were some patches of hair totally burned off. Artemis had healed her skin, so there were no scars, but it takes a while for hair to grow back.
The hairdresser had done a great job, though. Atalanta told me the hairdresser had given her something called a wolfcut, which made her laugh. But it had different lengths of hair, which worked perfectly.
Sikat na Kabanata