Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven

Epilogue

Raven

T en months later

I feel a hand sweep my hair to the side, followed by a pair of lips pressing over the mark on my neck.

“Locke,” I scold. “You aren’t supposed to see me before the wedding.”

“Shhh.” He kisses the spot again. “I couldn’t wait.”

I spin around, my white dress rustling along the grass and rocks. Our ceremony is taking place in approximately eighteen minutes, so he should be with the guys, not creeping on me in the woods.

Old habits die hard I suppose.

My eyes travel over his body, my smile widening as I drink in this man who asked me to be his wife. He proposed at Christmas, but we were still keeping our relationship under wraps on campus until I graduated, which I did in May.

“How did I get so lucky?” He asks, running his palm around my waist.

“I think it was fate,” I muse. "Or this." I bring my hand up, revealing the wrinkled white paper I've been clutching in my hand all morning.

"What's this?" He asks.

"Our fortune." I place it in his open palm. "I opened this right before I approached you on the sidewalk." I give my head a subtle shake "I didn't believe in them," I admit.

"And now?" He takes the fortune, slipping it in the pocket of his slacks.

I smile, loving the way his eyes dance. "There might be something to them."

He leans in, kissing the tip of my nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He smiles, rubbing his thumb down my cheek. “Meet me at the alter?” He asks.

“It’s a date.”

I watch his broad back retreat to the group gathered just a couple of hundred yards away while I gaze at the creek running through the property. Bethany and I had talked about our wedding days. The roles we’d play. I’d like to think that she’s the one who sent me Presley. Someone who could help me through the grief and teach me that pink isn’t all that bad.

The breeze picks up, a whistling in the wind causing me to peer across the creek. My breath lodges in my throat when I cast my eyes just beyond the trees.

I see it.

See her.

There she is. Standing on the edge of the forest, a smile on her face.

“Bethany?” It’s a whisper that carries with the wind.

Her hand moves to cover her heart, and she doesn’t have to speak for me to hear her.

It’s ok, Raven. It’s ok to let go.

I feel the tear slip past my cheek, and when my name is called, I quickly look behind me.

“Coming!” I shout.

When I glance back, she’s gone, but something resonates within me, and I smile.

Maybe there really is something special about being the raven.

THE END