10 Years Later
*
Casimir was in the middle of dinner when he realized it had almost been over twenty years since he had left Whitecrown.
He marked the years roughly by each summer that came and went. With his mouth full of boar meat, he looked up at the burning orange sun as it approached the beginning of sundown. The night his family was murdered had been this calm and balmy too.
His eyes drifted across the campfire circle to Mingan. Her gaze flicked over and then away, steadfastly ignoring him while she spoke animatedly to the Luna Shani about the eight-year anniversary of the founding of their pack, Misfits.
It was, of course, Mingan’s idea. She didn’t budge until Shani finally caved, adopting the name as soon as the rest of their little crew.
Harkin Rhoswen sat on Shani’s other side, his hand resting on her thigh that supported her swollen belly. She was due any day now, more than ready to give their daughter a brother or sister.
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