AMELIA
Morgana, the white-haired witch I had met a few days earlier, arrived at the pack house not even two hours later: I'd just finished packing when Erik knocked on my door to tell me she was there.
"You okay?" he asked as he walked in.
I nodded, but I knew I was lying. Nothing was okay - I was about to go celebrate Christmas with a family that was not my own, right after my sister had insulted and bullied me for something I did not choose, all while a damn hellhound conjured up by who-knows-who was merrily prancing through the woods of my land waiting for its next victim, and right after I'd almost died at my ex's hands - ex who had also well and truly decided to announce to everyone that hey! I was a princess, right during a party the night before. Oh, and after I had watched a
