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I’m slowly swinging on the old wooden swing under the tree, my thin white dress flowing in the wind as I soak in the moonlight. “It’s time,” Willow says from the ground next to me. I run my fingers through my lose brown hair and smile up at the moon. The full moon. “Does it mean something special if I come of age on a full moon?” “I don’t know,” she says. “You’re so special. It could mean nothing or it could mean everything.” “He’s a good man,” I tell her and she nods her little brown head. “He is a good Alpha. He will be a good mate.” “Do you think he will mark me tonight?” I ask her, feeling nervous at the thought of it. She doesn’t answer for a moment, but lies down at the roots of the tree. “I hope he does. He will be a good mate.” “So you’re OK with him? Really?” I