“You’re not my Fetch anymore,” I corrected. “You’re my sister. Sisters are invited, but they’re not required.” A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “All sisters?” “Well, maybe not all sisters,” I said. “I think August would be something of a liability right now. And that’s compared to you, the gutless wonder.” “I still have my metaphorical guts,” she protested, swiping at me as she pushed herself away from the tree.
