She sounds quite proud of that.

The idea that this girl thinks she can keep me in line should be insulting. Instead, I find it oddly charming.

“We should get moving,” she says, looking around.

“Yes. We should.”

But neither of us moves, and I find myself wondering how someone who calls me a wounded bear can make me feel more engaged than anyone ever has.

This is definitely going to be a long journey to Turnville.

We’ve been walking for a few hours when I decide I can’t wait any longer for answers. The forest path is narrow enough that we’re forced to walk single file, Astra limping ahead...