The Sentinels When you come and break my heart, free my blood.

With the tip of her nose resting at the uppermost tip of the cream star that marked Dagfinn’s chest, Lotte forbore answering her kaksonen immediately. It wasn’t that she disagreed with him — things had been simpler back home, and the two of them had certainly been closer. “Karhu on mennyt,” she intoned quietly, getting her own news out of the way, “ja olen kyllästynyt ja yksinäinen. Mitään ei tapahdu täällä.” She did not speak of Arturo, for her feelings toward the coywolf were confusing and new; selfishly she wanted to keep her thoughts of him wholly to herself. She spoke of the Samhain celebration, and how she’d immediately thought of Dagfinn and Marbas. With a measure of reluctance, she drew back to look searchingly at Dagfinn, though she maintained the physical contact with a simple touch of her paw against his. She felt better when Dagfinn was with her, preferably in touching and gnawing reach, and she couldn’t deny her growing restlessness within the forest walls.

“Mitä olet puuhaillut?” she asked finally, her argent eyes imploring him to tell her of his many adventures, giving her the stories and secrets he had been unable to tell the last time they’d been together. Lotte had caught Dagfinn up with the goings-on in her life; now it was his turn.