“It will be all right.” A big squeeze. “He’ll come back to us. I know he will.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I have to go before Meemaw comes after me with a switch in her hand.” She darted toward the woods. “I’ll be back later to train with you and Isaac. We’ll talk more then.”

Training. Ugh. The session with Isaac had helped. My attack on Imogen was proof of that. I’d recalled enough warg magic to rip out her throat. The adrenaline boost had been enough that I’d completed the most intricate change I’d ever made, notwithstanding my full transformation into Lori, of course.

“See you later,” I called back, marveling that I was now the type of person who said such things and meant them, and returned my attention to the geode. It weighed heavy in my hand and on my mind.

A hard bump sent me bouncing off the doorframe as Graeson padded into the yard, and I dropped the nest and the eggs, which splattered. At first I thought he meant to follow Dell, and the tightness in my chest panicked me. I should want the wolf out of my house, shouldn’t I? Being with his pack might help him heal in ways I couldn’t.

I understand him better than they do.

It was a selfish thought, but I couldn’t shake the rightness of the sentiment once it occurred to me.

The delicate tickle of the wards caressed me as I ventured out into the sun. Aunt Dot must have dialed up their strength in the wake of Graeson’s rampage. Out here birds called. Bugs chirped. Leaves rustled. And the wolf made a slow pass, marking every major tree in the clearing before hesitating beside a clump of gnarled vines creating a jagged fence strung between two scrawny pines.

His snuffling noises drew me to him, curious what the wolf found so interesting. I slipped the geode into my pocket to add to my growing collection and followed. He glanced up and saw I had joined him, which he took as an invitation to enter the woods. I trailed after him as he wound around to the back of the brambles and entered through a narrow gap someone had hacked into the dried vines.

Graeson dipped his head to the ground then sneezed, scattering…wrappers? I shoved into the camouflaged hidey-hole and lifted one of the crinkly squares. Clear cellophane crimped on three sides with a ragged gap left in the bottom of the fourth.

“It’s a sucker wrapper.” I brought it to my nose and inhaled, the scent of artificial strawberries cloying.

Movement drew my attention toward a smudge of pink amid the shadowy greens.