A few hours later, I sit in front of the council board members around a large circular oak table. The room smells faintly of old varnish and something sour, like sweat soaked into wood and possibly blood. Then there is the council. They sit, grim-faced, exchanging glances. The only sound is the creak of old chairs and the slow tick of a wall-mounted clock.

Part of me says I probably should have stayed in the pack where Valeria is. Anything would be better than being here.

“What details from ...