Like roots of a tree, the bond connected me to Brexley, who would lead me to my mate. It was as if somehow, Brexley or the magic foresaw what I would be, who I was meant for, and saved me. That it wasn’t happenstance at all. I could have died on that patch of grass, my life no more than a memory to some, growing dimmer in time. I would never have known her. Never have understood the power of loving someone. Fighting for someone. Dying for someone.
