Born of Ash and Night
Calculating, not judging.
“You shouldn’t be here alone.” He says.
“I usually am.” I smile with no warmth behind it.
“That’s not strength,” he replies. “That’s habit.”
That lands closer to home than I’d like.
A howl rolls through the forest—low, controlled, communicative. Ashton’s attention snaps toward it instantly, instinct wrapped in authority. Whatever he is to his people, it isn’t symbolic.
“They’re calling you,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Are you going?” I say not looking at him.