Chapter 6
We descend.
The staring doesn't stop. If anything, it gets worse—more faces appearing from doorways, from behind structures, from whatever they were doing before the human with the pink chicken walked into their home.
Are those all werewolves?
Of course they're all werewolves.
What else would they be?
Normal people don't live in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees so wide two people couldn't link arms around them. That one's missing a finger. That one has a burn scar across her neck.
How do werewolves even get burn scars? Do they heal from fire differently than—right.
Not the time.
Nugget's basket needs adjusting, the handle's digging into my wrist, and I shift her to the other side while a gray wolf trots past us.
Actual wolf.
Not person-shaped.
It glances at me with amber eyes before disappearingbetween two structures. Human one second, wolf the next. Apparently normal here.
There's too much happening.
"That's a wolf," I whisper to Kestria. "Walking around. Like a dog."
"Mel, don't call them dogs."
"I didn't call them a dog. I saidlikea dog."
"Still don't."
"Noted. Is it someone? Like, is that a person right now, or—"
"It's complicated."
"Everything about you people is complicated."
Nugget shifts in the basket. Pink and unbothered. There's a smear of mud on her beak from earlier—I pick at it with my thumbnail while we walk, scraping at the dried edge. Half comes off. The rest is caked. I'll need water for that. Where's the water here? Stream, Kestria said. How far? Should've asked before we—
"Stay close," Kestria murmurs beside me.
"Wasn't planning on wandering off."
"I know. Just—stay close."
"You keep saying that. Is someone going to jump out and eat me?"
"No."
"That was too fast. You didn't even think about it."
"Mel."
"I'm just saying, a little hesitation would've been more convincing."
