Chapter 403 Ava: It Isn't There

Buoyed by my mate's support, though dreading what Ivy's situation might mean—for her and for all of us—I scurry through the packed trails of camp, unsurprised as fresh snow flutters through the sky. It feels like we snow more days than not.

Find out anything yet? I reach out to Grimoire, who's been silent. I can sense Selene watching, but have no idea what he's doing. Sometimes I wish I could just pull his expertise into my head so I don't have to take the long route of actually learning how to do things myself.

Don't be lazy, he chides.

Okay, but did you discover anything yet?

He's silent, leaving my brain to itch as I wait for his response. Finally, he does.

No.

Helpful.

Don't blame me. I'm limited in my abilities until you get here.

"I'm not blaming you," I grumble, almost slipping over a patch of re-freeze. The temperature's plummeted, more than I'd think it would. The sky isn't even fully grayed out.

My magic wriggles in my belly, and I realize I've covered myself in a light layer of warmth without thinking twice.

Like autopilot, but the magical version.

Nice.

Stop being impressed with yourself and hurry up.

"I am, I am." Picking up the pace, I notice a small group of wolves headed toward the debriefing tent. My connection with the pack is not as defined as it should be, but I can vaguely sense that they're Westwood wolves. Must be a scout party coming in.

they come with good news. We

You're slowing down again.

nudge kicks me

squeak against the freshly mopped floor

murmurs as I

like it's pretty quiet

use that word. You

"Sorry—" I surreptitiously peek at her little

the wooden frame of her desk. "Better safe

I head down

me off balance. My hand flies to the wall to steady myself as a

down, dark hair falling forward to obscure

prickling at the base of my neck. There's something about his posture,

pack bond assures me he's a Westwood wolf. Not

one of Ivy's little fans. Probably didn't want to be caught by

flies open. Vanessa stands in the doorway, her

my throat. "No. Even with the medicine,

room, her grip tight on my arm. "Come see

slick with sweat. Her head whips from side to side, auburn hair plastered to her face. The blankets twist around her legs as she fights some unseen enemy in her

state—it's the corruption inside her. The darkness pulses like a second

beside me in his adult form,

deep and resonant. "I need you to

Ivy's hand. Her skin burns against mine, and the contact amplifies the sensation of

hands hover over her body, trailing ethereal

hands again, more deliberately this time. "I can't make

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