Lyra stood at the kitchen table in Megan’s house, scraps of paper and half-finished plans spread out before her. Megan was talking animatedly about flower arrangements and what sort of garland might look best draped across the pack house porch, but Lyra only half heard her. Her mind was a swirl of thoughts, memories, and half-formed emotions that she couldn’t quite untangle.
It was so strange to think how far she’d come. Just weeks ago she had returned to these lands desperate to save her brother, determined to leave again as quickly as possible. Now, she was planning her Luna Ceremony.
Her. The scarred, half-blooded outsider. About to be officially recognized by an entire pack as their Luna.
Megan gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Stop worrying. This is going to be perfect. You deserve
