The Black Wolf
Kavira said, her voice drifting between us, “you’re lucky, you know. I miss my mate, I truly loved him, but he was never as devoted as your man. Werewolves like him are rare.”
“Unless he’s not one,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Nothing,” I sighed, brushing it off. “I just need water. I want to wash.”
“When we leave here, I’m sure we’ll find some,” she said reassuringly. “Fresh water can’t be far.”
Just then, the crunch of footsteps echoed at the cave’s mouth. Zevarion appeared, a wild rabbit dangling from his hand. His eyes lit up the moment he saw me, and despite everything, I found myself smiling back.
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