Calla’s POV

Luna found me the next morning sitting on the back porch of the cabin, staring at my hands as if they might suddenly grow claws again.

“Still freaked out about the supernatural stuff?” she asked, joining me with two mugs of coffee.

“I moved a shipment car with my mind,” I replied flatly. “I think ‘worrying’ is pretty understandable.”

“Fair enough.” Luna handed me one of the mugs. “But you can’t spend your life just staring at your hands, waiting for ...