MAYA'S POV
(TWO WEEKS AFTER THE GARDEN)
Being friends with Lyra was... complicated.
One moment we were normal seven-year-olds, playing with dolls and laughing about silly things. The next, she'd sense a threat and shift into a massive silver wolf before I could blink.
"Sorry," she'd say, shifting back. "I thought I felt something wrong."
"It's fine," I'd reply, even though my heart was racing.
It wasn't fine. It was terrifying and amazing and exhausting all at once.
But I'd meant what I said in my letter. I wasn't afraid of her.
Okay, maybe a little afraid. But in an exciting way. Like being friends with a lightning storm—beautiful, powerful, and occasionally dangerous.
Today we were in the library. I was teaching her about healing herbs while she taught me basic combat forms.
"This one stops bleeding," I said, holding up a pressed flower. "You crush it and apply it directly to the wound."
