It had been a week since Vessara moved to Nightwalker. Seven days of learning new hallways, new faces, and new rhythms. Seven days of waking in a bed that didn't smell like home, of reaching for things that weren't there, expecting voices that never came, and missing those she loved.
The pack house was vast and beautiful and utterly foreign, and she had spent every morning telling herself that would change. That if she stayed longer, patient, it would make it change.
And truly, she had gotten familiar with the surroundings now—a bit.
The garden was her favorite. It held a sprawling maze of roses and lavender and climbing jasmine that perfumed the air even from a distance. She'd discovered a hidden bench near the koi pond, tucked behind a cascade of willows, and she'd claimed it as her own.
