As friends unite and enemies surge, can Shalea be saved?
Shalea is in danger. The friends need to unite to face the unknown forces threatening to destroy them all. As old secrets are unveiled, and new alliances formed, will it be enough to save their Sept. Or is all going to be lost under the Shalean Moon? More
Do you know where we are?"
Aibhlinn shook her head. "Not really, though I could guess to within a few miles. I've not lived around here for long, so I'm not well up on all the countryside." She bit her bottom lip and twirled her hair into spirals with one hand. Rach stared impatiently, the action familiar to her. At first she didn't realize it, but she found herself copying Aibhlinn's actions; her hand busy corkscrewing her own hair.
Dammit, I spent a good twenty minutes with my straighteners this morning, and I've just ruined all my hard work.
After a while Aibhlinn spoke. "Shit, I thought I'd stopped playing with my hair. You're as bad. We'll both look like a version of Tracey Beaker otherwise. Okay, let's hit all these questions one by one. We need to learn things, get to know each other, and maybe then we can do some good. Maybe. No..."
Rach opened her mouth to talk, and she was stopped by the hand in the air, universal "wait a moment" sign. "Hold on, let me start. Don't you realize?" Aibhlinn asked her. "Today is Monday. That's why I'm in school uniform, because I've been to school. I might add, it seems so ridiculous to make final year students wear these stupid things. Grr, I'm eighteen, not eight, and I'm not in the habit of flashing my pants when it gets windy. Anyway, I'm rambling, so take it from me. Monday, kilt, cold legs."
Rach stared at the other girl. She didn't seem concussed, but then, with a—a what—shape-shifting Shalean fox, how would she be able to tell? "Look I do think we need to get you checked over. It can't be Monday." She tried to sound unconcerned, reasonable, in control. Inside, her mind was awhirl, and her stomach churned.