Olivia Anderson
The Blackmist pack house smelled like cedar smoke and cinnamon for the first time in days.
Someone had finally opened the windows. Sunlight poured across the wide oak floors, catching dust motes that danced like tiny sparks.
The common room was alive again..low laughter, the clink of mugs, pups chasing each other around the long table. I stood near the hearth, cradling a mug of chamomile tea, letting the warmth seep into my palms.
I was trying to feel like I belonged here again.
Trying.
A woman I slightly recognize slipped into the room carrying a tray of fresh scones. She was tall, maybe twenty-five, with warm brown skin, a cloud of tight curls pulled into a high pink ponytail, and a smile that looked like it had never met a stranger.
She set the tray down and caug
