Scarred by fate
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes wide. “Like, literally the same. Atlas started talking to me almost exactly a month before my birthday. Mum was so excited, thinking I’d shift early, because, you know, the earlier the first shift, the stronger the wolf, right? But nothing happened until three minutes past midnight on the 18th of October, and boom!”
“Wait a second,” I say, my heart pounding. “Your birthday is the eightieth of October
He looks at me, confused. “Yeeeh,” he draws out, like I’ve asked the dumbest question ever.
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