Page 20 of Mate Night Snack
She stayed where she was, arms folded against the railing, watching the mist curl along the garden path like it was listening too.
She didn’t believe in fate. She still wasn’t sure she believed in magic.
But the pull toward him? That felt real.
And she wasn’t sure if that scared her more than any ghost ever could.
8
EMMETT
The woods were too quiet.
Not peaceful. Hollow.
Emmett kept to the narrow trail just north of the ridge, the soles of his boots whispering over damp needles and fallen leaves. The air carried the scent of distant rain, pine bark, and something faintly bitter underneath it, like steel left to rust in the dirt.
Maeve walked a few paces behind, boots lighter, movements smoother. She was sipping from a travel mug shaped like a bullet casing, her short black hair pulled into a tight braid that barely brushed her collar. Her dark eyes scanned the trees like they were waiting to misbehave.
“This is the most boring patrol I’ve had all week,” she muttered. “Even the raccoons are behaving.”
“Keep walking,” Emmett said without looking at her.
“You’re grumpier than usual. What, did Katniss tell you her vibes were acting up again and you didn’t listen fast enough?”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Don’t start.”
Maeve grinned and sipped her tea. “You know I’m going to. You’re practically radiating it.”
“Radiating what?”
“The ‘she’s under my skin and I don’t know what to do about it’ energy. It’s loud.”
Emmett huffed. “She’s stubborn. That’s all.”
“Mmhm,” Maeve said, noncommittal. “And totally not your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
She scoffed. “That’s adorable. If brooding wolves had a dating profile, you’d be top tier for emotionally unavailable.”
He ignored her.
They kept moving, the trail narrowing into a thicker patch of spruce and oak. Moonlight barely made it through the canopy here, and the trees pressed in close, limbs creaking with old weight.
“She doing okay?” Maeve asked more gently this time.
Emmett nodded once. “Miriam says she’s stable. No more collapses.”
“And the visions?”
He didn’t answer so Maeve let it go.
They stopped near the Council’s western marker tree, one of the old birches woven with protective spells, carved generations ago to anchor the Veil in place. Callum had flagged this spot during his rounds two days ago. Something had feltoff, he said. Tense. Like the tree was watching him back and not in it’s usual way.
Emmett stepped forward and scanned the bark. He sucked in a breath when he saw it.
There, carved near the base, was a symbol he hadn’t seen in ten years.
