Book 13: A New Assignment

Logan

I stare down at the words covering a single piece of pure-white paper. It’s my evening ritual these days, especially when I’m closeted away in this room, in these barracks, instead of in a tent or curled up in a ball in my wolf form somewhere in the rural Roguelands or desert of Tarsian. I glance at the two other letters beside the paper, both neatly folded, Lexa and Nora’s names written clearly, cleanly, just like Aviva expects. 

She taught me how to read and write in the language of Eastonia and Crescent Falls. She was strict about it, forcing me to spend hours working on my penmanship, drilling the translations into my skull until I began to think and even dream in the language of my new home. 

Even at nearly thirty, I still feel an obligation to check my work, to ensure the letters I send back to Silverhide are flawless, because Aviva still cares. 

She’s always cared about me. 

I’ve failed her in so many wa