Donna’s formally flirty eyes have grown suspicious, wary. “Professor B left for school yesterday and hasn’t been back.”
Besides my parents and the brother who died three years ago, I’ve grown up around normals. This girl, Donna, is a shifter. How do I know? It’s several little things. The flecks of sparkling amber in otherwise dark eyes. But it’s not just her eyes… it’s the way she moves. Normal people are less aware of their bodies. The one thing I can’t figure out is her animal.
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