MORIA
“So…you’re a werewolf?”
“No.”
“A wolf hybrid?”
“No.”
“A beast with no soul?”
“Stop talking.”
I scoff and focus my attention around me.
I was wrong about the path we are now walking on.
When I saw it from the courtyard I had assumed it was made of sand, the same color and texture as the beach.
But it’s actually made of tiny gravel and stones that seem to catch and reflect the light from an extremely bright moon so that it looks and sounds like we might be walking on pieces of broken glass.
The trees lining it are of a variety I do not recognize.
They are so straight they look fake and so tall that I have to crane my neck up extremely high before I am able to see their slightly domed tops that are covered in dark, almost black leaves.
I bite my tongue.
It’s the only way
