Free Mundahlia (The Mundahlian Era, #1) by RJ Gonzales

cousin is REAL mad now. Lol.
     
    Sarah (10:18am): Lmao!
     
    You (10:22am): Ugh! I gotta go now cuz she wants to talk to me…
     
    Sarah (10:23am): Good luck Rini!! C ya Mañana! Lol
     
    You (10:23am): I hope so....

    I slid the phone back in my pocket and headed over to Celeste who appeared as though she were practicing her speech in her mind.
    “What you saw-” she began. Here we go.
    To save an hour of going on and on about something that made me uncomfortable—I interrupted, “Was just a normal part of life that all people experience with their lovers. Blah, blah, blah. I get it, you both have needs and urges, all right?”
    “All right,” Celeste agreed. “No more of your little jokes about it, okay?”
    “Fine,” I said. “No more little jokes.”
     
    After the talk , I exited the backdoor and headed for my cabin.
    Spotting a bed of freshly bloomed flowers from Celeste’s garden—I paused. The multicolored silky petals were glittered with drops of fresh dew. Would it be craz y if I put flowers on a stranger’s grave? I thought to myself. I recalled how bad in shape the headstone was, nearly covered and forgotten into the earth. How could someone just forget about a headstone? The thought of mommy Gloria’s headstone being in the same bad shape unsettled me. I would never let that happen to hers and I’d want someone to tend to it when I wasn’t able to. With a swift yank, I ripped off a few of the different types of flowers—forming them into an arrangement. They were already off the plant, so I might as well do it. No sense in letting the beautiful flowers wilt for nothing.
    Inside the cabin, I set the flowers in a small bucket—along with an old toothbrush, a pair of gloves, and a small bottle of water. I went out the back of the cabin and walked diligently into the lush forest, taking a few quick looks back at my home as it distanced with every step I took. The search George and I had done had proved that there were no wolves in the forest. Which was good, but just incase, I left a note saying where I’d be so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting bitten or mauled and dragged away to my death and not being found and given my own headstone.
    I wandered around for what seemed like ages before I found the same cluster of shrubs I had spotted the headstone in before. Sitting on the floor Indian-style, I began sprucing up the stone. A twig snapped somewhere close. There was nothing around me when I snuck a quick glance. Okay? I shrugged it away and put on the gloves.
    Only a few scratches kept the headstone from looking like new once I’d de-weeded it and scrubbed the letters as hard as I could to get them nice and cleaned. There were a few words damaged beyond repair, but it was still legible. My wrists hurt, but the sight of the polished stone made it worth it. I hope whoever Zunicio “Zuni” Sarantos is—or as the stone now read: Zunco Zui Saran , is looking down on me right now and smiling—appreciative of what I’d done for him. Hell, if I were able to see someone doing this for me when I’m gone, I’d make sure they got something in return. An extra day on earth. A gentle shove out of the way of a careening vehicle that was skidding toward them—a crisp hundred dollar bill that blew over to them by the wind. Come to think of it, where would I get the hundred dollars from? I’d be dead.
    I threw the gloves into the bucket and grabbed the bouquet by the stems. “ Crap! ” I stammered as a drop of blood plopped to the dirt. A thorn from one of the roses in the bouquet had pierced my thumb. Sucking on another forming drop of blood from the wound, I used my palm to move the flowers into place. Done. Phew! Another twig snapped behind me, only this time—husky growls followed. An electrifying sensation shot down my spine.
    I turned and found myself face to face with a brown eyed wolf. Looking at me with voracious eyes as its pink flat tongue curled around its snout—snarled up into a