Commander Thorpe consults his map, though Charlie already got a look at it and said it wasn’t a true rendering of this patch of woods. ‘More a patchwork of guesses than anything else,’ she’d told me last night as we huddled together, though she was clear I was not to kiss her, hold her, or whisper anything filthy to her while we were in the company of the hunters. I abided by points one and two, but three? I whispered her a bedtime story so scandalous about two completely fictional characters named “Charlie” and “G” that I knew her cheeks were burning bright by the time I was done.
