I wake to find Erica's side of the tent empty.
Not unusual—my daughter has barely slept since Alaric disappeared.
Between her Sight showing her fragments of possible futures and the guilt she carries over "not seeing" the attack coming, she's been running herself into the ground.
She should be worrying about first crushes and pack politics, not carrying the weight of a kingdom's survival on her shoulders.
But that's not the world we live in anymore.
I find her at the edge of camp, sitting on a fallen log and staring at nothing.
Her eyes have a distant, unfocused look, indicating she's lost in a vision.
"Erica," I say softly, not wanting to startle her.
She doesn't respond. Just keeps staring, and I see her hands trembling.
"Erica!" I move closer, touching her shoulder.
She gasp
