“Maybe you shouldn’t go on this trip.” I huffed out a breath. “And give up the campaign to get the werewolves a seat on the High Witch Guild where they belong? Not a chance.” I linked my arm with hers and guided her toward the house. “Besides, like you said, these visions aren’t always what they seem. The vines could mean anything. It could mean connection, strength, the tying of the werewolves into the Guild.” “Or strangulation and suffocation and death.”
