NATALIA
It’s snowing up here in the mountains today. Visibility is low, and even with my wolf heat, I can feel the chill in the air. We still haven’t had even a whiff of fae around the coven, let alone an outright attack. Frustration hangs heavy between us four wolves. Our time here is dependent on these attacks that don’t seem to be happening while we are here.
“Nat,” Sam links with a cautious wariness in his tone. “Me and Drake smell wolves.”
I leap up. It may not be a fae attack, but I am pretty sure there shouldn’t be any wolves prowling around except us.
“What is it?” Jonah asks. He has been sitting silently on my bed, reading a book while I watch the snow fall out my window, painting the landscape a beautiful white on the red and green pine and brown bark.
“Sam said they sm
