Again my sleep is uncomfortable and uneasy. I know I've caught a few bits of rest here and there. Part of it comes from being segregated from the others. Not that I'm completely surprised. They all found a place far from me when they'd finished eating what Beckett fed them from the sack. He retrieved the golden puppy Poppy has named Shine and brought it to me.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's not your fault. But they've been through so much."
He won't meet my eyes. I try not to be hurt. But it's hard.
Now that they've settled, I catch myself starting at every noise, every breath of air, even when Shine and his sister, now called Shade, murmur in their puppy sleep. I wish I had someone to watch my back. It isn't until I groan at last and roll over on my side I remember I'm not alone afte
