Valka
For hours, my heart and head turmoils, fighting against the other. So maybe I cry a little. Because I don't know or understand what he is talking about, but the pain, the anger, I feel it thick in the bond.
I wait for him, so we can talk about it. Because I'm done waiting, like Margot suggested. If I was a bitch, I want to know. If I was mean and vile like Lucien says I was, I want to know.
But he doesn't return at all that night, leaving me out there, freezing my butt off when the fire eventually died out. Between the strange howls, hoots and twisting everytime a branch so much as cracked, I couldn't get any sleep.
By the time dawn creeps in slowly, I am dressed. And pissed. Slightly worried.
