Alana's POV
My father's final letter sat at the bottom of my satchel, unopened. I had carried it with me through the madness, across the bloodied battlefields, through pack's chambers, and even into exile but I never dared read it. I told myself it was because the time wasn't right, but the truth was simpler: I was afraid. Afraid of what he might say, afraid of the man he had become before his death, and the daughter I had become after it. But tonight, under the weight of the Moon Goddess's warning and the vision that still clawed at my thoughts, I nearly reached for it.
My fingers brushed the worn seal, but something within me recoiled, urging me to wait. So I tucked it away again, telling myself there would be time later even if there was still a later to claim.
