CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of suicide, depictions of survivor’s guilt
She said nothing. The wind rushed through the pine needles, howling like a wolf without its pack. The snow beneath him should’ve felt cold, but instead it just felt crunchy, like the stuff that would compact into ice if you pressed it down hard enough.
Cecelia fell to her knees in the pine needles next to them, gesturing frantically with her hands. “What the heck is going on in this town? I was trying to find you and Avery yesterday but instead I saw a weird guy with a triangle head and he looked at me and it gave me a headache and-”
Tazmin stopped dead in his tracks, glancing down the length of a side trail to see someone in a red flannel shirt, looking at him with warm curiosity.
CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of genocide, emetophobia trigger, mention of gruesome medical details
“She’s deeply genetically unstable. If I had to guess, something in the way the tribes combined when she was made has weakened her stomach lining, making her more susceptible to bleeding.”
“What’s an Archfae?”