THE FINAL HINT OF SANDALWOOD and tomato leaves drifted away even as the memory dissipated, and I knew that Brooke had finally faded from the earth. Actually, that wasn’t true. Her letter was still here, along with the words she’d wanted me to have when I was sixteen and she was dying. Whether or not my father was using Brooke’s letter as a means of manipulating me seemed academic now—my sister had been the one who wrote the words, and Brooke always had my best interests at heart. So I tilted my wolf face so I could squint down at the paper and I began to read.
Unfortunately, I could barely make out my older sister’s greeting, and could parse that much only because I knew Brooke would begin her letter “Dearest Terra.” Something about my wolf eyes or my wolf brain made the rest of the missi
