Mira's POV.

Twenty years after Kael's death, I walked to the cedar tree for the last time. My legs barely held me. Seventy-three years old. Ancient for a wolf. Cara had died five years ago. Lyra three years ago. Jenna last winter. I was the last one left from the beginning.

The tree had grown. Thicker. Stronger. Roots deep where Marcus's letter still rested. I sat. Leaned against bark I'd touched ten thousand times. "Hello," I said to no one. The wind answered. Just wind.

"I'm tired, Kael." ...