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She’s Not Mine
Ryan
Rain pelts the roof of the packhouse. It’s the largest building, other than the barns we erected last year, in Silverhide. It’s an exact model of our packhouse back in Crescent Falls but made with cruder materials instead of things like steel and concrete. The log walls still smell like cedar as I walk around, making the rounds, checking in on my pack.
Everyone has questions about my wife, of course. Jacob, after being sent to Silverhide to gather help with the carts, spread the word. Now I’m being showered in clipped congratulations, everyone sounding a little unsure. I’m sure the strained smile on my face doesn’t help.
Aviva is seated at the end of one of the three long, wooden tables. She has a plate of food in front of her, and I’ve been watching her eat as I weave from pack member to pack member, making sure she’s actually touching her food. She’s seated next to Shosanna, who&rsq
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