Book 8: Three Wolves and a Witch

Kenna

Night falls, and Evander and I haven’t said a word to each other. In fact, he’s been pretty much unseen for most of the dozen or so miles we hiked today, all of which were done with me blanketed in my shadow and him running somewhere in his fox form. 

Or wolf form. I honestly have no idea. All I know is that whatever happened between us last night has made us both unwilling or unable to even look at each other. 

I know better, which is the worst part. I know better than to kiss a friend and think everything will go back to the way it was before. That’s like, a cardinal rule in friendship between opposite sexes, right?

Maybe it did go back to the way it was before, actually, because now we’re not speaking, and I have no idea where he is or what he’s up to. 

I let my shadow fade and huff out a breath as I come to a full stop in a moon-soaked clearing, my legs aching and feet blistered and sore. “I’m done, Evander. I’m