Ashlynn looked like a ghost of her usual self.
The people by the bonfires might not be able to tell through the smoke and the mist. The ruddy glow of the firelight helped to disguise the sickly, gray pallor Ashlynn's normally pale complexion had taken on, and the dancing shadows hid the dark circles under her eyes, but Jocelynn knew her sister too well to be fooled by tricks of lighting.
The puncture marks on Ashlynn's neck stood out starkly, and though they'd healed, it was clear to people like Ollie and Heila that Nyrielle had drunk both deeply and repeatedly from the Mother of Trees.
Now, as Ashlynn faced her sister from just a few paces away, she relied on Nyrielle's closeness and comforting touch for support.
