SERA

The walk from the pack house to the border took forty minutes on foot, and I felt every single one of them.

My duffel was slung over my shoulder, heavy with the only things worth taking — a few changes of clothes, my phone, the locket my mother gave me before she died. Everything else in that bedroom belonged to a life I'd been performing for less than a week. The emerald dress, the expensive toiletries, the closet full of Luna-appropriate outfits someone had selected before I arrived. ...