Damien turned towards me, and I did the same, my forehead creasing. What could be so important that he would want me, of all people, here?
"I heard you're a teacher," he began, his words careful and cautious, as if he might scare me off. "There's a child. He's eight. He lost his parents during the attack, and the caretakers have been trying to get him to open up so he can see a counsellor."
I mulled the words over in my head. The boy's parents' deaths made my heart clench. He truly had been displaced. Rogues were cruel for no good reason. My fists tightened. Wolves were meant to exist in packs, not wander around destroying them.
"He's a child. He will need time," I said amicably.
Damien sighed, and the sound reminded me of Kai. He, too, looked very burdened.
"I know. They know that, too. But the weird part isn't his silence. It's the…" he leaned in, his eyes glancing around furtively, "the nightmares. He wakes up screaming and thrashing in pain."
