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A hand settles on my shoulder, making me jump.
Haut’s concerned gaze catches mine. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just nervous.” I glance toward the woods again. “Do other wolves hunt up here?”
He shrugs. “I’ve never restricted them from this part of the forest. Why?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll do well today.”
“How can you say that with a serious face?” I roll my eyes at him. “You’ve tried to teach me.”
He grips my cheeks with one large hand and smacks a kiss onto my forehead. “I believe in your ability to focus when you need to, just like you did when you led us to those poor witches trapped in the well.”
“You make me sound like Lassie,” I grumble.
He pets the top of my head. “Such a good girl.”
“Leave now!” I point toward the house. “This is officially a witches-only garden!”
Ruffling my hair, he strides to the porch railing and vaults over in an impressive display of muscular prowess.
“I could totally do that,” Tris says with envy in his tone.
My eyes stay fixed on Haut’s broad back. “No, you couldn’t.”
Tris’s shoulders slump. “No, I couldn’t.”
The sound of soft voices come from the driveway, and I hurry to the edge of the garden to wave the new arrivals over.
Harper walks at the head of the small group, her blond hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail and her sharp, blue gaze sweeping over the setup.
The path through the garden is wide enough to fit the rectangle tables we borrowed from the community center. They’re just long enough to fit three chairs on one side, leaving the other side open so no one has to turn in their seats to see the front.
The four tables stretch to the gate at the back that leads down to the dunes, making enough room for all eleven members of our coven, while a fifth table sits at the front, slightly larger than the others to denote the teacher’s station.
As the women step into the garden, I smile and gesture toward the table. “Please take a workbook, a glass of lemonade, and choose a seat.”
They gather around the table, murmuring softly as they pick up different colored journals and select pens from the cup before gathering their beverages and dispersing among the tables.
Harper chooses a seat at the front alone, while the others fill the tables behind her.
The crunch of tires on the driveway draw my attention, and I go out to help Ambros with Delilah.
She had been discharged from the hospital a couple days ago, but she’s still fragile.
I meet them in the driveway, where Ambros slowly walks with his arm around his sister. While she’s fifteen years older than Ambros, there’s no mistaking the family resemblance. She has the same curly auburn hair that he does, though silver streaks hers at the temples, and the same blue-green hazel eyes.
Those eyes light up when she spots me, and she takes a few steps forward on her own to pull me into an embrace. “It’s good to see you again, sister.”
I give Ros panic-eyes over her shoulder, and he mimes hugging her back, so I do. Awkwardly and with much back patting.
While Delilah had spent some time in my mind and feels a bond with me through her connection to Ambros, I’m still getting comfortable around her.
She pulls back and links her arm through mine, leaning her weight on me. Even though she’s several inches taller, she feels frail enough to blow away in a stiff breeze. Her imprisonment over the years has taken a steep toll on her health.
“Ambros was telling me about everything you’ve been doing for his people.” She hugs my arm. “You are truly amazing, Rowe.”
