Maeve
The next day passed in a blur of activity. The city was buzzing, practically electric as Myla and I moved through the market square, the note from Una inviting us to a private, women only ceremony to invoke the full moon was scrunched in my fist as we pushed through the crowd.
“Did you feel, I don’t know, strange? Last night?” I asked Myla as we walked towards the river.
“Um, no. I guess not. I was missing Keaton, though. Why?”
“I—It’s nothing,” I murmured, biting the inside of my lip.
“Well, do you feel strange, Maeve?” Myla asked.
“Yeah, actually. There’s something about this place that feels off to me. It doesn’t feel…real? If that makes sense.”
Myla nodded soberly, lowering her gaze as we crossed over the narrow bridge, “I do understand that feeling. This place is too good
