I watched her expectantly, the emotions reflecting through her eyes were each more complex than the one before, and I found myself moving closer to her without even realising it, desperate to know why she was feeling all of those emotions. What I was thankful for, was the fact that I had managed to practice some form of self-control, managing to control my urge to press her for information. She would share whatever it was that she was thinking about when she was ready.
“Have you ever left your pack?”
Her question was so sudden and out of the blue that it took me a second to actually answer her. Why would she be bothered with asking such a thing? Did it matter if I had ever left? Or was she just making small talk?
“I’ve left a few times—admittedly, it had been for long periods of time,
