Jessica Andersen, Blog Entry 12/11:

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Dear Red-Boar,

Leah said I couldn't pick a god, that I had to write to you.  She also said I had to use ‘Dear Red-Boar' or even worse, ‘Dear Dad,' even though we both know ‘Hey old man, f- you' would be closer to reality- or, even better, nothing at all.  

 She seems to think I have something to say to you that I didn't get to say before you died, but we both know that's crap.  You told me exactly what you thought of me, and vice versa.  What is there left to say?  You didn't want me bound to the magic because I'm just a half-blood.  Heck, you didn't even accept me into your bloodline until Strike made you do it.  You never trusted me, never taught me, and never let a day go by without letting me know you would've traded me in a heartbeat to get even a few minutes with your ‘real' family, the one that died during the Solstice Massacre.  But that was twenty-four years ago.  Get over it already.

Then again, I guess you don't have to get over it, do you?  You're with them now, the way you always wanted.  You win. 

Oh, and Leah?  Since I figure even though you said you weren't going to read these letters, you're probably using them to plan some sort of non-Christmas party and gift handout, I could use a new Wii because Sven busted the old one playing tennis.  And I'll take a dozen or so more of those fireproof blankets you got me- I melted the last batch, but they were good while they lasted.

Rabbit

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