Dragoncrest Cliffs go tell aunt rhody

When Rosalyn appeared, it reminded Haunt of the day she'd returned a few months prior. It had been raining then, too, and the Tanzanite hadn't even seemed to notice. It was most likely the byproduct of spending so many years living by the sea. Rosalyn was like an impervious, weather-beaten boulder. Just thinking that metaphor made the yearling's stomach tighten with apprehension.

She knew she should wait for Erzulie too, though Haunt had been sitting on this so long—and itching to tell them the past day, in particular—that the moment Rosalyn drew closer and said her name, the yearling's mouth opened in a totally uncharacteristic rush of words, racing off her tongue in fits and spurts.

"I keep having this dream. Every night. There's a black she-wolf with yellow eyes. I don't know her name. She's never said. I think she's connected to this place," Haunt said, only realizing the connection as she said it. She didn't slow down. "She keeps telling me we have to leave this place. She says something horrible is going to happen and everyone is going to die if we don't move the pack from these cliffs by winter."

Her heart was pounding. Haunt stopped, feeling slightly panicky. Some part of her hoped Rosalyn would remind her it was only a dream. If the leader dismissed her fears, then maybe Haunt could make peace with that fact. But why did they come every night? Would they ever stop? What if her subconscious somehow knew something and the dreams were simply a manifestation? Haunt's breath shook from her mouth.