❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅❄❅ — Jaymes Young, Habits Of My Heart IT TAKES a long time to recover. About two weeks pass, and our little group is still huddled in the cave. Jett organizes a hunting schedule, sparing Everly, Eider and I, since we were the worst off after the expedition into the storm. I ignore the schedule and make daily trips anyway. The others try to stop me, but I'm used to pushing myself past the point of no return. They don't understand it--they stare at me like I'm insane as I claw my way up and down the mountainside, my worn paws leaving rosy smudges of blood on the snow, breath rattling through my ribcage, eyes glazed with pain. But to me, it's nothing compared to what Greer has had me endure in our training sessions. I don't even need to