She felt connected to it in a way that transcended its ties to the coven, as if there were something here in this sacred grove that called out to her secret soul. It was why she’d come this morning, to ground herself after a long and exhausting night. The wind whipped at her hair, making her shiver, and Eleanora pulled the thick black jacket even tighter around her middle. She’d grabbed one of her heavier coats from the hall closet when she’d gone out, and she was glad of it as she stood in the open air with the cold biting into her skin, yanking at her coat as if it could tear the thing from her body. She had no fight left in her to push back against Mother Nature. Her exhaustion made her feel old and used up, and it was in these raw moments that she longed to flee responsibility. To crawl under her house, make a little nest in the dirt, and curl up and die like one of Dev’s old, toothless tomcats. She was tired, and she wanted someone else to take the reins.
