I met her the summer I turned eight.

The first thing I noticed about her were the eyes. Both blue. One was the deep, dark blue of a sea during a storm. The other was the colour of glass, held up against a summer sky.

The next thing I noticed was her smile.

Sharp. Knifelike. And when she spoke, when she said my name—Jude—I almost remembered her.

In my dreams, it's her I see. Always her. The girl, before she became a wolf. And—I miss her.

I never thought it would end like this.

I never thought it would end here.

Falling rain. The Sicilian harbor in the distance.

I am on a ship that is about to explode, and I never even told her I loved her.