(Nisha)
He shook his head once, barely perceptible. “A mix. Wolf, human, witch.” I tensed, and he noticed. “Not like you,” he added, his voice low.
“How can you tell? How can you tell what they are?” I asked.
“Smell,” he said.
I never had to try to catalog others. I was told what they were, I witnessed their powers sometimes, and that was that. I never had to try to ascertain what they were for myself. I wondered if I even could or if it was something that shifters with an uncanny sense of smell could. Or maybe, well, quite possibly, I had just accepted what others had told me without questioning it.
A bit formed in my stomach, and I wanted to share those thoughts with Cameron, to get them out, for someone to tell me I hadn’t been lulled into willful delusion. But the food came. Some
