Fantasy
The man stared at her and his brow cleared. He smiled with a kind of wonderment. "You're a healer." A statement, not a question. "I never hoped to find such a one in a place like this."
The moon sailed free of the shredded clouds and, as though drawn to its own likeness, flooded down onto Madeleine's hair, turning her golden curls into a gleaming beacon. She sat with Matthieu in a dinghy, her round, frightened face a pale moon on earth. Féolan was running before his mind had taken in what he had seen. Someone, somehow, had Dominic's children.
Hana ran through the broken streets of Blood Burrow. The smell of burning followed, sliding into her mouth as she gulped for air. It was as damp as toads. She would never wash herself free of it, and never stop hearing the women scream or wipe out the memory of the Limping Man.
