Let’s plan this hunt, Chelsea Childling

A light rain pattered on the gravel of the parking lot, but the whistling wind promised a storm. Chelsea leaned back in the seat of her car, studying the boarded windows of Boney’s haunt.

She’d been inside a handful of times before she’d decided not to hunt monsters. Dark, dirty, and usually full of surly hunters, it was the natural place to meet and discuss the reaver hunt.

Now What?

Mama gave her rolling laugh. “You’re barely old enough to drink. Give yourself some time, and some slack. Now, do you have a young man?”
“Mama…”
“Or a young lady. I’m not making assumptions.”