Chapter Seventy-Seven

WHEN THE SUN BEGINS TO RISE, so do the crows in our yard.

The crows in the tree follow.

There’s a flash of gray amid the black, and the three of us look up.

“Bye, Joe,” Juniper whispers.

The birds flock, building momentum. Like dominoes falling, but in reverse, each following the last up into the dark sky, until there are thousands of crows above us. And then tens of thousands. The sunrise is crimson, reflecting off the black feathers until it looks like the crows are burning as they rise, like a hundred thousand phoenixes soaring over Auburn.

It is a new day. A new year.

It is like ending a nightmare and waking up to a new world.

Campbell and Juniper come to stand on either side of me, each slipping a hand into mine, and I feel something shift inside of me. That winged thing in my chest settles. Silent. Safe.

We’re home.