Hanna

I didn’t bother to hang my coat up on the hook as I staggered through the door to the small cabin I shared with Kacidra. I tossed the coat to the floor, the thick fabric falling on the wide-plank floorboards in a wet, snowy heap.

Kacidra wasn’t home. She had spent the last two nights with Pete, who was living in one of the cabins in the village. They were mates, and the connection had been intense, passionate. I saw the pattern, of course. Troy and Maeve. ...