Please, Not Another.

Cassian

"Why are we having a meeting when we could be gouging out Varg's eyes with soup spoons?" I spin myself around in the chair in the war room as Lyra and Ember sit on a small sofa, trying to shove Warlock into the knitted sweater Lyra made our tail tumbler.

I'm pretty sure it's a boy, and the sweater is hot pink.

I need to remedy that somehow.

"Caleb said to call an emergency meeting, and he