*Miranda’s POV*
I woke up to the sun on my face and the smell of fresh coffee. We had driven right through the night, to a place I didn’t know. As the world around me came into focus, I saw George sitting outside on a retaining wall overlooking a valley. The sky was still streaked with orange and pink as the sun was still to make its full accent. His jacket had been neatly folded into my pillow as my head rested against the door. Slowly, I straightened in my seat, feeling my joints and muscles bark against the stink of being in one position for hours. I unclasped the buckle of my seatbelt, which George insisted I wear. I hate the damn thing, but apparently werewolves were not immune to dying in car crashes, or so he said. The security he’d get from me wearing the medieval contraption was
