*The Hunting Party*

Brynn’s absence was like a thick fog constantly surrounding the hunting party as they traveled south. Every move they made was shrouded in the swirling gray of their loss.

While Maeve refused to paint her grief in the sound of sobs or wailing; she never seemed to lack for silent tears. In her efforts to shield the others from seeing her weakness by slipping between the trees or darting ahead, she had inadvertently caught Vesta in the same act.

The ...