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I never asked if she did it because she felt powerful that way or because she felt safe. In the end, they were the same. Power was safety.
Shiara keeps one of his finger bones in her pocket, worrying it smooth like a river stone.
We had to adapt to a different world, a world that wanted us dead. We chose forms like the humans who had helped us only to learn that they too were hated by the two-legged world we sought to join. Even with our new hands, we could not enter the same doors as the lighter ones. Even though the woods were no longer our home, we couldn’t live in the same neighborhoods.
“Together, both witch and wolf become greater than they could ever be alone. They’ll walk the earth like gods, transformed by wisdom and love.”
Sometimes, when the world is pressing down on you, it’s easier to turn on the ones closest to you rather than fight the world.”
“I never want to scare you like that again,” she finishes. I stare at the little bag, and she hides it in her fist, shrinking nervously from my gaze. “I’m sorry, Yasmine. I’m sorry that I’m not the witch you deserve.” I was wrong before. Kalta doesn’t know how to live in a body. Neither of us do.
I’m a useless girl, always emptying myself because I was afraid of holding on to anything and how that might make me hope for something I couldn’t deserve.
“The magic is stronger in community,” she says. “It’s hard to hold an entire life by yourself. That’s why we brew the tea together. It’s why we grow the roots in our ancestors’ ashes. We’re all connected.”
“Magic,” she says, “is this huge thing that’s always been inside you. But if you can’t feel the earth or your community, you’re left alone with yourself, and all you have is blood.”
Maybe I’m just a poor wolf girl who met a poor witch girl, and we both desperately needed a story to find our way out of our pain.
I place the snatch of meat into her waiting palms. When she lifts it to her mouth, her teeth are sharp like ours.
