Sarah

In the end, it isn’t the Alpha of Shadowcrest darkening my doorway with breakfast.

Cosette comes into the sitting room, beaming, her arms full of clothes in colorful fabrics. Within a few minutes, I’m dressed in a perfectly tailored pair of comfortable khaki trousers and a shirt made of light pink cotton, and I’m sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by an endless amount of food once again.

Cosette rambles about the clothing she ordered yesterday that some poor seamstress in Shadowcrest likely worked on all night to have ready so soon. When she offers me coffee, I shake my head, and she’s delighted when I ask for a...