The words landed somewhere deep in Seraphine's chest and twisted.
"How old is she?" The question came out before she had fully decided to ask it, her voice dropping into that careful, controlled register she used when she was holding something fragile together from the inside.
Her mind was already moving, pulling at threads, lining things up, refusing to let hope run too far ahead of logic.
The one thing she had asked the moon goddess for, the single thing she had carried like a stone in her pocket every single day, was to find her daughter before the full moon.
But after what happened with all the children she rescued during the Santiago ordeal, she wasn't going to fall apart over a phone call. No, she wasn't going to do that to herself again.
"Her records say she's five, but Sera, her hair reminds me of Alpha Ravyn."
The breath that moved through Seraphine was slow. Her daughter would be turning seven in a few months but then again, there could be a mistake with the date.
