OUR OLD TENT STILL smelled of Ginger, Cinnamon, Glen, and Lia...and not just because some of my original pack mates must have snuck away earlier in the afternoon to set the structure up in the secluded valley miles away from Wolf Landing’s constant interruptions. No, the richer undertones were leftover from when the faded purple canvas had sheltered all five of us in July, at a time when Hunter was just a scary figure hovering at the edge of our combined attention. Now, as I unzipped the door and crawled toward the electric lantern hanging inside, I realized how far we’d come in one short summer of independence.
“If you want, I can sleep outside and guard the entrance just like old times,” Hunter rumbled as he followed on my heels, mind tuned to my nostalgic thoughts.
A thick air mattres
