Panic causes my stomach to lurch…
It’s a rainy April day. One of the days that makes everything look green and alive. Artemis holds my hand tightly, hers trembling almost imperceptibly. I can practically smell her fear. The feeling of impending doom is heavy on my shoulders. I know that this is more likely to turn out badly than it is to turn out well. We stand on the porch for a long minute before I turn to her.
“No matter what, I love you. If this doesn’t go well, it’s okay. And I’m not asking you to tell your pack. But I want to tell mine.” She nods before I finally gather the courage to open the door.
“Mom, Dad?” I call out. Artemis’ hand is clammy in mine, but I don’t mind. If anything, it’s almost reassuring that she’s sharing in the panic with me.
“In the kitchen,” Mom calls
