Mira froze. Her knees were still drawn up tight to her chest; her fingers dug into the hem of her shirt. She opened her mouth, closed it, then stammered out in a rush:
"But… it's not safe out there…"
Her voice cracked on the last word—high and uncertain. The night suddenly felt bigger, darker, full of unseen rustles and possibilities. Her eyes darted from Angela's amused face to the black wall of trees, then—almost involuntarily—back to me. To the hand still resting over my crotch. To the way my fingers flexed slightly under the fabric.
Angela turned fully toward her now, crouching down so they were eye-level. She reached out and tucked a loose strand of Mira's hair behind her ear—gentle, sisterly, but with an undercurrent of invitation.
