That made Phaedra's little black heart hurt. It truly did. It was obvious that she'd had to lose a lot to live so long, but what wasn't as obvious were the little changes.
It was the little things that killed. Things changed, bit by bit, reminding her how removed she was from everything.
Phaedra wasn't trying to move with much speed, though once Peter was in front of her, she wondered what it might be like to race him when he was a wolf. When she saw him offer her his hand, she had a strange moment of very potent deja vu.
It was 300 years ago for just a second, and her oldest brother was doing the same thing.
Fucking wagon.
She took his hand and pulled herself up, sitting next to Peter. She watched his hands roll the cigarette deftly, and when the match lit, she could more clearly see the medallion around his neck.
Her mouth dropped open. And before she could stop herself, she reached out and held the necklace in her hand.