By then I'd spent longer in the world of wolves than I ever had in my own. The memories of home had blurred at the edges, but I still remembered my mother's gentle face, my father's big, warm hands, and how every holiday the three of us crowded into our tiny kitchen, each with our own job, putting together a feast.“Come home, sweetheart, and I'll cook all your favorites. Wherever you are, I'll always be waiting for you.”Mom.A tear slid down my cheek. Then I felt a cool hand brush it gently from the corner of my eye.I opened my eyes slowly, and there was a face I knew: my mother, exactly as I remembered her, so gentle.“I keep telling you not to fall asleep in the living room. Look, the cold's made your eyes water. I made dinner. Eat something, then go sleep in your own bed.”Looking at the face I'd ached for, day and night, I felt dazed. I couldn't tell if this was a dream or real. I reached out and touched her face. The warmth under my fingertips, the soft lines at the corners of
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