Page 46 of Mate Night Snack
Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”
They stood there as the woods bent around them, as the Hollow Stone hummed behind them, as the world paused and waited.
His fingers brushed the edge of her spine. “You’re not fine,” he murmured. “You’re holding it together with grit and sarcasm.”
“And duct tape,” she added.
He smiled. But the fear didn’t leave his bones. Because if the Hollow Stone had pulled her here, it meant something bigger was coming.
And he wasn’t sure even the strongest charm could stop it.
19
KATNISS
TheGriddle & Grindfelt different in the early morning light. Softer somehow, with golden sunbeams slanting through the stained glass windows and casting rainbow patterns across the mismatched furniture. The usual bustle of townsfolk hadn't started yet, leaving the café hushed and intimate, like a confessional booth made of cedar and cinnamon.
Katniss sat in the corner booth, the one with the wobbly leg and the view of both the front door and the back garden. Her notebook lay open between her hands, pages filled with sketches of symbols, fragments of dreams, and questions that spiraled into more questions. The scorched remains of her protective charm sat beside her coffee cup like evidence at a crime scene.
Twyla approached with a tea service that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. The porcelain was delicate bone china painted with tiny violets, and the teapot steamed with something that smelled like lavender and secrets. Her wheat-colored braid swung over her shoulder as she set everything down with practiced grace, the dried blooms woven through her hair catching the morning light like captured stars.
"Morning glory blend," Twyla said, settling across from her with fluid movements that reminded Katniss of water finding its level. "Good for clarity. Better for courage."
"I could use both," Katniss admitted, watching Twyla pour the pale golden tea. Steam curled between them, carrying hints of honey and something deeper, earthier. "Emmett told me about the supernatural side of things. Shifters, the Veil, all of it."
Twyla's hands stilled for just a moment, then continued their steady movements. "About time. That boy's got a talent for carrying weights that don't belong to him alone."
"Is that what this is?" Katniss gestured to her notebook, to the burned charm. "Another weight he's carrying?"
"Sugar, that weight's been sitting on this town's shoulders since before Emmett ever set foot here." Twyla settled back in her chair, wrapping her fingers around her teacup. Her eyes, those soft brown depths flecked with brightness, studied Katniss with the intensity of someone reading tea leaves. "The question is whether you're strong enough to help him carry it."
Katniss sipped the tea, feeling warmth spread through her chest. It tasted like summer mornings and grandmother's hugs, if grandmothers could brew comfort into liquid form. "Tell me about the pattern. The missing girls. All of it."
Twyla was quiet for a long moment, her gaze drifting toward the window where morning mist still clung to the garden like ghostly fingers. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of decades.
"Started back in '85. Girl named Senna Walsh. Sweet thing, barely eighteen, with hair like spun copper and eyes that saw too much. Found her way to Hollow Oak following dreams that called to her, just like you did." Twyla's thumb traced the rim of her cup. "She had the sight. Not as strong as yours, mind you, but enough to catch attention."
Katniss felt her stomach tighten. "What happened to her?"
"Same thing that happened to Mabel, to Eliza, to the three others whose names never made it into any journals." Twyla's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "They got tangled up with something that fed on fear and used love as a weapon."
"Ashwin."
Twyla nodded slowly. "He wasn't always what he is now. Time was, he led a pack that lived by old codes. Honor. Protection. Balance with the land." Her expression darkened like storm clouds gathering. "But power without wisdom is a dangerous thing, and Ashwin found ways to twist those codes into something ugly."
Katniss leaned forward, her notebook forgotten. "How does this connect to Emmett?"
"Every girl who disappeared, every seer who vanished into the mist, they all had one thing in common." Twyla met her eyes directly. "They fell in love with wolves who tried to save them."
The words hit Katniss like a physical blow. Her teacup rattled against the saucer as she set it down with shaking hands. "You're saying this is deliberate. That Ashwin targets seers specifically to hurt the men who love them."
"I'm saying Ashwin learned a long time ago that the fastest way to break a wolf's spirit is to take away what he loves most." Twyla reached across the table and covered Katniss's hand with her own. Her palm was warm, callused from years of kneading dough and tending plants. "Each time, the pattern's the same. Girl arrives, usually following visions or dreams. She's got enough magic to slip through the Veil, enough heart to see past the town's careful walls. She meets a wolf, falls in love, thinks she's found her happy ending."
"And then?"
"Then Ashwin comes hunting." Twyla's fingers tightened slightly. "He studies them, learns their weaknesses, their fears. He whispers poison in their ears about their wolves' pastmistakes, about the violence they're capable of. He makes them doubt. Makes them run."
Katniss thought about yesterday, about Ashwin's voice in her vision saying her name like he already owned it. "The girls who ran... what happened to them?"
