Page 3 of Mate Night Snack
“I’m serious,” he said quietly. “Stay out of the woods.”
She took a slow sip of her tea, watching him over the rim. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
He didn’t reply. Just pushed off the tree and turned, disappearing down the trail like the shadows opened for him.
Katniss stood there long after he was gone, the cup cooling in her hand, her heart beating faster than it should.
Something was wrong here.
And she’d be damned if she left without finding out what.
2
EMMETT
Emmett Hollowell didn’t like being watched.
He sure as hell didn’t like doing the watching, either, but here he was, standing at the moss-ringed edge of the Council Glade, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on the woman striding down Hollow Oak’s main street like she already owned a piece of it.
She was all legs and attitude, that one. Backpack slung casual over her shoulder, black waves of hair bouncing with every step, a worn leather satchel bumping against her hip. She moved like someone who didn’t care she was being observed. Like someone used to poking sleeping things just to see what they'd do.
He’d seen that type before. City kind. Fast-talking, fast-thinking, always with too many questions and not enough instinct to leave well enough alone. She wasn’t dressed for the mountains either. Ripped jeans, old boots, a jacket full of buttons and snark. The kind of clothes that saidI’ve seen things,but her eyes? Hazel and sharp as broken glass. Those saidI’m still looking.
Maeve's voice hummed low beside him. “She’s already been to the café and the inn. Talked to Twyla. Smelled like oranges and curiosity.”
Emmett didn’t answer right away. His focus stayed on the woman—Katniss, Miriam had said. Even her name grated. Pointed. Like something you might bleed from.
“She’s not just visiting,” he muttered.
“Nope,” Maeve replied, popping the p. “Miriam confirmed it. Said she’s got gear. Recording stuff. Spoke into a mic when she thought no one was watching.”
Emmett’s brow twitched. “Podcast.”
Maeve tilted her head. “You know what that is?”
“I don’t live under a rock.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He cut her a look. She grinned.
The Glade rustled behind them, a low whisper of leaves and old magic. Varric and the others had already gone back to council business. Sent Emmett and Maeve with one clear task:Keep the newcomer out of trouble. Keep her out of the woods. And, for the gods’ sake, don’t let her stir up old ghosts.
What made it harder was that this was a simple human. One who may believe in ghosts, but unaware of what type of town she had actually walked into.
Emmett didn’t care much for orders. But he cared even less for strangers sniffing around things better left buried.
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
Maeve lifted a brow. “Thought you might say that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’ve got a look,” she said, nodding toward the woman across the square. “Like a wolf who just caught scent of something he doesn’t know what to do with.”
Emmett rolled his shoulders. “She’s nosy.”
“She’s pretty.”
