I closed the book. Somehow it felt heavier than it had the first time I picked it up. Back when Nonna gave it to me before the Harvest Dance. Maybe it was all in my head, the physical weight couldn't have changed, but the mental and emotional weight could. I've read my mother's firsthand account of a time in her life where her concerns went from careless daydreaming about boys and high school drama to a quest for information to help her Werewolf husband and child.
My mother's entire life had turned into some kind of witch hunt, or Werewolf hunt, I guess would be more apt. She loved my father in the beginning. Had she loved him in the end? She was devoted and loyal. But why had she followed him that night? She must have been so big, carrying my brother inside of her. Why would she have ris
